


Deep Darks and Bright Lights

by rachelladeville



Series: Darks and Brights [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Cas, Conspiracy, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Mild Angst, No cheating, Rape, Slow Burn, Top Dean, Torture, dark themes, homeless cas, visions/dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 120,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelladeville/pseuds/rachelladeville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he woke, Cas has been homeless and living on the streets with no memory of how he got here. His only clue so far, is a mysterious tattoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darks and Brights

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ravenwolf36 for editing this despite it's tags and warnings ;)

 

Blinking his bleary eyes open, Cas looked around. The sky in the east was beginning to lighten which meant that the sun would soon rise. He'd slept, but fitfully. The roaring sounds from the overpass above had never quite faded into the background as he’d expected them too. He sleeps lightly now, keen to every noise and always on the defensive lest he be accosted while he's vulnerable. He'd never slept here before, and as he stretched his limbs and prepared to get on his feet, Cas promised himself that he never would again.

The relentless drone of traffic moving overhead might not have been an issue if it had been constant, then he probably would have been able to tune it out. But the traffic wasn't just comprised of a steady stream of cars whirring by. Trucks large and small rumbled past regularly, sirens wailed, and horns honked. In addition to disturbing his attempts to sleep, the buffeting noise made it almost impossible to hear softer sounds... like approaching footsteps. Thankfully there were no altercations during the night – only interruptions. 

No one around him was awake as he got quietly to his feet. Careful not to stumble, he moved laterally across the steep cement embankment and then out onto uneven ground. The grasses and scattered underbrush were tall here and still wet from the night’s rain. Leaning into the climb, he ascended the hill to emerge onto the side of the road. Walking alongside the road on gravel was still easier than the uneven ground. He followed Summit Street for quite a while with his wet socked feet sliding about inside his shoes. They had never fit him very well. Looking down at them, he became preoccupied with watching his feet in the burgeoning light. Scuffed and tattered, they made a squeaking sound as he put one foot rhythmically in front of the other. Pain was imminent, he could feel it coming. The tips of his toes and the backs of his heels were starting to throb from the abuse but his pace didn’t slow. The driving force in this march was his stomach. The dull but persistent ache he was feeling would soon start to feel like a beast trying to claw its way out from the inside. He needs to eat food. Soon.

Thinking of how he will exchange green and white paper for sustenance, he dipped his hand down into his pants and fished out his currency. Now that he was awake, he didn't need to keep it tucked away in a safe place anymore. He counted it, again, before folding it neatly into the pocket of his pants. A wash of soft pinks and yellows has been slowly spreading in the sky above as he progressed closer to his destination and he's passed many buildings as he walked. There are none the same, but they are all similar in a way Cas can’t really put into words. Most are deserted now, but later in the morning, many people will converge in this area. 

The wide roads which carry a high volume of cars have been left behind by the time the sun actually makes it's appearance. The buildings change as the streets do, the space between them shrinking. There is a variety here… some old and some new. Some are pretty and some are ugly. Some are short and squat with lights on inside and colorful signage. Others are huge and detailed with spires jutting up into the sky and colored windows that remain dark and unlit at this hour. At the first opportunity, Cas crossed over a small stretch of grass so that he could walk in a place that's intended for people, not cars. Having kept his eyes fixated on a familiar red tower as he traveled, he knew that he was getting close.  

When he saw the red and blue sign bearing the name Bank America, he knew it was time to turn right. Rounding the corner, he caught the scent of food and quickened his pace. His feet hurt but of more concern was the sensation of twisting from deep inside him. At the end of the next block he cut across the grass that isn’t meant to be walked on and pushed through the heavy door of Wendy’s. Joining the line of people waiting, he looked around cautiously. Suddenly surrounded by others and in close proximity, he scans the room for anything he needs to be wary of. There's nothing. Relieved, he turned his eyes to the choices of food available. Reaching into his pocket again, he pulled his paper currency out and counted as he deliberated on what to ask for when it was his turn.

As of today’s sunrise, Cas had been marking time for twenty one days. Prior to that, he’d been new and didn't really understand the concept of time or the rhythm of life as it buzzed around him. His dirty and battered hands counted twelve dollars again as he reviewed the choices displayed overhead. He’ll need to procure more currency today or begin alternative measures for acquiring the things he needs to survive. It had only taken a few days to learn that one never wants to be completely out. Having no currency is unpleasant.

As he shuffles forward in the line, he notices people looking at him. But, since they all look away when he returns their stare, it seemed safe to assume that he’s fitting in relatively well. It’s when people yell at you… that’s when you’re not fitting in.

There was a lot to get used to in life; many lessons to learn. He tried to ignore the niggling feeling that he’d learned all these lessons before and would eventually learn them again. It was a concept that made him fearful and confused. For now, he directed his thoughts toward something he could feel good about - how far he’d come since his initial waking. He’s learned to take care of his vessel; his body. That had not been easy.

While new to this life he’d been yelled at a lot by angry people who seemed to assume that he’d known things when he hadn't. Sometimes they even threw things at him. He tried not to feel anger towards them for their teaching methods, though. One didn’t have to watch humans for long to see that most other people of his size already knew the lessons he was learning. He was late somehow… different… he knew that. He just didn’t know why.

This life, he’d quickly found, was governed by pain. The first lesson he’d learned was that when his insides clawed at him, he needed to eat food. When he ate, the pain would subside for several hours. Understanding that concept had made it easier to recognize other needs and tend to them as well. For instance, when his mouth felt sticky and pulpous on the inside, he needed to swallow liquid. With time, he'd begun to notice that the people around him seemed to be taking in food and liquids with rhythmic precision - first in the morning hours, then when the sun was near the center of sky, and again when night seemed to be approaching.

Cas now also knew that when his lower half became tight he would soon need to eliminate liquid from his appendage. If he didn’t do so in a timely manner, his insides would ache. And, if he still didn’t let the liquid out, eventually it would come out of its own volition. That information had been hard won. In fact, that was the first time he'd been yelled at. 

A very large man had stepped towards him and cursed him for eliminating, even though he hadn’t meant to do it. Everyone else had stood by and watched with their mouths open as the man had screamed for him to, "get out, and go clean up." Puzzled, he’d asked the man how to clean up. Instead of explaining, the man had thrown something at him. A cup. A cup full of liquid. So, he'd wound up even wetter. Covered in his own liquid waste and the strangers sticky beverage, he'd wound up having to leave that place without the food that he’d desperately needed. 

Another lesson he'd learned was that his body would frequently grow tired. Delaying rest or sleep when he needed it led to horrible aches and pains in his limbs and at his core… sometimes his head would begin to pound from inside. Yes indeed, pain ruled this existence.

Now, as he stepped up for his turn to request food, he told the girl in the strange hat that he’d like two sausage biscuits and a coffee. Recently, a new friend had explained to him that it was best to always buy food that will “stick to your ribs,” and though Cas didn’t quite understand that reference, the man had suggested exactly the meal that he’d just ordered.  Not only was the food component ideal, he’d been told, but it was cheap. Biscuits with gravy had been another suggestion from this helpful friend. Cas had a few friends now. He liked having friends and sought to have more. But, he knew better than to try and make friends with the girl who was getting his food. The people who give out food all day, he'd learned, might seem nice at first but they do not wish to make friends with those on Cas’ side of the counter.

As he counted out his money to the food lady, he noticed how dirty his hands were compared to hers. Even still, under days’ worth of grit and grime, the dark blue symbols on his wrist stood out. He knew that that this combination of letters and numbers was an important thing… but he had no idea why. It was part of his skin – the only such markings on him anywhere. CAS 062.

Since Cas had no name for himself, those who had seen his mark had taken to calling him “Cas” and he liked having a name. It was a good name. It suited him. He didn’t know what the numbers meant, but he assumed it was a clue that would someday lead him to whatever home had slipped his mind, leaving him stranded here in this foreign place with no knowledge of any life before it.

When his sack of food was slid across the counter to him, he moved carefully between the other bodies to find a seat. He ate his first sandwich very quickly in an effort to relieve the pain in his stomach. But the second sandwich, he left in the bag as he sipped on his coffee and enjoyed the feeling of getting warmer on the inside. If he finished eating, he'd be expected to leave. However, if he still had food in front of him, he'd be able to stay for a while and rest his feet. At his little table, Cas began to think about what he'd do next. There were things that needed to be done today. More than anything else, he needed to hunt. The desire to do so could not be ignored… much like eliminating liquid could not be ignored.

Additionally, Cas planned to go to the place that gives out food for no money. Since he had so little left, it would be good to eat without trading currency for it. But also, this was a place where people could meet and make friends. It was a place for leaning things too. On his last visit, he’d been told that the overpass was a good place to sleep. Sadly, that had not been his experience last night. He wanted to make a friend and ask them for another suggestion regarding places to sleep. So far, the best place he’d found had been “the alley”. It was always crowded though, and often he’d be run off by someone who claimed that he was in their spot. Surely there was a peaceful place to sleep and he simply hadn’t discovered it yet.

The people he passed on the streets always seemed so clean and rested compared to him. He’d seen dwellings in vast numbers and he knew that most people had one to call their own. But when he inquired about how to procure a dwelling for himself, he’d been met with laughter. Cas began slowly eating his second biscuit as he pondered the dwellings and how he might obtain one. He suspected that minimizing the pains of living would be much easier if he had a place of his own. And if he ever found one, he’d invite all his friends to join him there. It would be a reciprocal act for all the knowledge and companionship they had provided for him.

When he’d finished his eating and drinking, he rested a little longer before getting up to throw away his debris. He moved to the little rooms that were set apart for eliminating so he could relieve himself. While he was in there, he enjoyed the opportunity to put his hands into clean, warm water. He took some of the soft pink substance from its dispenser on the wall and used it to help scrub away the filth. He worked it up his wrists and used some on his face too. Then, feeling much cleaner, he exited the Wendy’s and moved back out onto the street.

Resuming his walk to the south and east, Cas left the tall red tower behind him and followed the street called Linwood. This was a route he knew well. It would eventually cross the street known as The Paseo, which was his destination. On the way there, he’d be able to stop at the place that gives away food and perhaps make a friend. But ultimately, he wanted to return to Paseo because it was the sight of his last kill. He would be vigilant as he walked the length of it, watching for a 'deep dark' moving among the people there.

It was full daylight now and the small streets that had been relatively quiet upon his arrival were now noisy and swarming with activity.  He moved purposefully now, despite the painful sores on his feet. At a small store with peeling paint and bars on it's windows, Cas bought several small packs of crackers. They were inexpensive and as he tucked them into the pockets of his raggedy coat, he felt better knowing that he had some stored food. From now on, if hunger pain presented itself at a time when he wasn't able to buy any. Now, back on the street, he set his sights on his hunting grounds which were close now. When he came to the place that gave away free food, he'd be able to rest. If all went well, he'd also make a friend while he was there before returning to his hunt.  

 

 

Dean woke to the blaring of his alarm clock and growled as he flopped over to hit the snooze button. He bumped that same button three or four more times before finally acknowledging that the day was upon him. He kicked his covers back, finally growing used to the empty bed he’d been sleeping in as of late, and headed for the kitchen. His eyes were nothing but slits as he staggered to put on coffee and then headed to the shower.

He felt much more human when he’d finished. A good rub-n-tug under the steaming hot water had pulled his body the rest of the way into consciousness and when he stepped out he wrapped a towel around his waist.  In the kitchen he poured himself a cup of magical, “I’m ready to give a shit about life now,” juice.

Glancing at the clock as he dropped bread in the toaster, Dean realized that he needed to get moving a little faster. He sipped his brew while he waited for toast but when it was ready, he ate it quickly. Dean was finding that he’d settled into a very comfortable routine now. The days of waking with strangers were over, or so it would seem. Omitting that part of his life had seemed to bring order from the chaos. It was an unexpected side benefit he’d not been expecting when he’d made the decision to stop picking up chicks. Now he was free to just go about his morning routine and head in to work. It was far less complicated than nursing a hangover while performing a walk of shame back to his place or, worse yet, trying to force the exit of whatever he’d drug home from the bar the night before. In some ways it was better like this. In some ways it was worse.

Once he’s eaten he pulled on his work clothes. Jeans. Boots. An old worn out t-shirt with a flannel over top. He put on his watch and then looked into the mirror. Finding himself satisfied, he grabbed his keys and headed out to work. His neighborhood is questionable, but Dean likes his place. It's a ranch style house with an attached garage and a fair sized yard. His baby, his vintage Chevy Impala, looks good tucked away in the garage and it's less than ten minutes commute, even in traffic. 

Singer’s auto repair and salvage yard is in a prime location. It's just down the street from Advanced Auto and only a short distance from I70 and 71 which bring in a steady stream of business. Singer's isn't too far from downtown either. The shop has always stayed busy and Dean enjoys working there. The owner, Bobby, had been like a father to Dean and his brother Sam growing up. In fact, they’d spent more time 'temporarily' living with Bobby than they had spent actually residing with their own father. Sammy still lived at Bobby’s place but Dean, four years older, had been living on his own for a while now.

The morning was pleasant so he rolled down his widow and rested his arm there as he watched the scenery change from residential to urban. Life was different these days, that was for sure. Coming out as a gay man hadn’t been easy. The ramifications of his public acknowledgment had made things even more difficult than they’d already been with his father. 

John Winchester, though a respectable man, was far too relentlessly driven to be a part of the daily lives of his children. He called occasionally seeking advice from Bobby as he traveled the country on a noble quest, briefly saying hello to his boys before hanging up. Was John Winchester an admirable man? Absolutely. Was he a good father? Absolutely not. It had only gotten worse since Dean had come out. Honestly, he'd expected the man's rejection. But that didn't make it any easier to live with. The weight of it was ever present, a crushing weight on his heart. But Dean was strong; every bit as strong as John. His heart may be hurting, but it wouldn’t break.

Being true to himself for the first time in his life had made it easy to rip off the band-aid of strippers and easy women. He’d never really enjoyed them all that much anyway. He’d simply been using them to placate himself and cultivate his image and self esteem. Now, he was no longer hiding his true desires and that felt great. But with his bed empty night after night, those desires remained unfulfilled. He wasn’t lonely, but he did miss getting his rocks off with someone on a regular basis and he pined for all the gay sex that he’d mistakenly thought he'd be having when he came out.

As he’d prepared to step out of the closet, Dean had imagined that saying the words would be the hard part. Enduring the reactions of his family and friends had been the perceived challenge. But he’d been wrong to think so. Turning his head towards the male end of the dating pool hadn’t been like flicking a light switch. His first trip to a gay bar had shown him that.

To be gay was to be an entirely different person. Dean was finding that despite nurturing fantasies of man-on-man lovin' from a very early age, he knew nothing of how to meld into that world.  He was both frustrated and confused. Dean likened himself to a stroke victim trying to learn how to walk and feed himself again. Everything was new. He was flailing about in this new life, struggling to find a foothold. So, as luck would have it, coming out hadn’t really been the hard part at all. Learning to live as this new version of himself... that was the hard part.

Additionally, he was finding that he had no desire for a large percentage of the men who shared his same sex inclination. That may have been the biggest surprise of all. The world of gay men was overflowing with caricatures of the ‘token’ gay man… flamboyant and prissy with a big attitude. There were too many yuppie ass-hats who wanted to talk about fashion and celebrities and home décor.

At the clubs there were waifish twinks who made lurid faces at him as he walked past. There were big bears that wanted to intimidate him and bend him to their will lurking on the periphery. And what the fuck? Was he the only gay man on the planet that didn’t want to dance? The bars were like walking into a cartoon. Where was his George Clooney? Where was the handsome man who wanted to sip on a beer from the bar stool next to his and and talk about things that Dean actually gave a shit about?

Truth be told, there was an image behind Dean’s eyelids that he’d secretly been jerking off to since he was twelve and the likeness of that man was nowhere to be found.  Admittedly, it was possible that men like the one in his fantasy existed. But since Dean was new to this life, he was clueless as to where he’d find them; or how to interact with them once he did.

In hindsight, it seemed naïve to have assumed that he’d just say the magic words to come out and suddenly he’d have a veritable buffet of desirable men lining up to take a ride on his cock. He chuckled at the thought as he locked up his baby and headed into the shop to punch in.

 

 

 

When Cas had purchased what he now has dubbed 'pocket crackers' he'd made sure to get the ones with peanut butter between them because he remembered being told that peanut butter sticks to your ribs. It felt good to be prepared, but his interactions with the people in the store were strained and have left him feeling unsettled. Cas has never been quite sure how to talk to people. Others don’t seem to have trouble communicating like he does and that's just another stinging reminder of the vast chasm between his experiences and theirs. As he walked down the street, he ruminated on the mystery of how he came to be here, and where he’d been before.

His earliest memory is of waking, cold and wet. He had looked around and found himself on the bank of large body of fast moving water. He’d been covered in blood and it scared him, but closer inspection had revealed that the blood was not his own. When he’d stood and looked around, he’d seen a body lying at an unnatural angle nearby. He leaned in to look at it more closely and found the face battered and bloody with glassy, vacant eyes staring up at the night sky. The man was dead.

Taking inventory of himself he’d found his body uninjured but his clothing in disrepair. His shirt was torn and covered in blood, and the long coat he'd been wearing had spatters on it as well. Pulling the coat tightly around him created a positive sensation - one that he now knew as warmth. 

On some level, Cas had known that he’d killed the man on the ground but he didn’t have any clue as to the circumstances. He paused there, looking at the man and trying to decide what to do next.  Before he'd come to a decision, the sweeping headlights of an approaching vehicle alerted him to the encroaching presence of others. Without even considering how to react – he ran.  It had been instinctual. Following along the bank of the river, he didn't stop until he’d run himself completely out. Dropping to the ground at the base of a tree, he'd tried to organize his thoughts. Pulling his knees to his chest, he'd sat there as his thoughts had circled relentlessly and found no answers. It was there, in the sallow and silvery light of the moon, where he’d noticed the marks on his wrist for the first time.

Those first few days had been the hardest. It was so very frustrating to have inherent knowledge of some things and yet be completely lacking in the knowledge of other things. For instance, his own body had been foreign to him. He'd had no idea what he looked like, where he had come from, or what his name might be. But yet, he had known that he should have a name. He'd known how to hunt. It was some strange combination of knowing and not knowing that kept him feeling constantly off kilter. Even now.

Cas had learned quickly how to tend to many of his body’s needs – but not all of them. The ones with a sharp pain motivation, like hunger, were learned in a matter of hours; before the sun had even set on his first day. However, there were other pains that were lesser and he still hadn’t figured out how to assuage them. There was a constant unease that stayed with him all the time. He assumed that it was a sadness due to his loss of knowledge, but he couldn’t be certain. He’d been suspecting, especially lately, that he’d once known many things and been trusted with important information that had somehow been lost to him.

Aside from the sense of unease that permeated every fiber of his being, there was also a dull ache that seemed to be emanating from inside his chest. It was unrelenting. Unfortunately, this is how his body seemed to work. When it needed something, it sent him pain signals to bring his attention to the problem. Once he addressed the problem, the pain would stop. It should be simple but it isn’t. When you don’t know what you need, the process of figuring it out while in pain can be very frustrating. The tenderness inside him would not relent no matter what he tried so he learned to live with it along with his sense of unease.

In the days since his waking, Cas had been focused primarily on hunting. The action of it was instinctual for him so he assumed it was something he was meant to do. He walked the streets by day and for large portions of the night, paying close attention to each of the people he passed.

Humans all looked basically the same, but with subtle exterior differences. Each, much like Cas, had an outer shell that encased his inner workings. Inside each person were bones, blood and organs. He’d seen much of each as he killed. Bones were strong but could be crushed by pressure or snapped by force. The soft organs were easily damaged with almost any sharp object and blood presented itself with almost any injury where the thin outer membrane of skin was breached. Sometimes it would just seep out and other times it oozed out or pulsed out or even sprayed out depending on the nature of the injury.

When it came to people, the thing of most interest to Cas was their light. Almost all people had a muted glow about them. He could see a hint of their blood in the blush on their cheeks, and he could see a hint of their light in the sparkle of their eyes. Rarely, there would be someone whose light shone extra brightly. These were like a beacon to Cas. They stood out in a crowd and he found himself drawn to them, sometimes following them for blocks just to be near them and enjoy the sensations they evoked in him. He had no name for this phenomenon so he simply thought of them descriptively as ‘light and bright’. The sighting of a Bright always made for a lovely day. Even after he parted from their company, the warmth of them would stay with him for a while.

The opposite of a ‘light and bright’ was known to Cas as a ‘deep and dark’. These Darks were rare and near so easy to spot as their lighted counterpart… hence the term 'hunting'. He had to seek them out. It was his duty. When hunting he’d prowl the streets watchfully, making sure to look directly into the face of each person he passed. It was much harder to find the absence of light than to find light itself.

When he did find a Dark, it chilled him to the bone. Once he’d seen one, he would focus on it and look closer. Usually, if he looked hard enough into their eyes, he could feel the essence of it... a disturbing sense of wrongness and bleak hopelessness. Being near them was difficult to bear. But he always did what he felt compelled to do. He’d follow the thing, despite the negative feelings it caused in him, staying with it until he had an opportunity to kill it. Instinctively he knew that he couldn’t just kill these things right out in the open for other people to see. In much the same way that he knew he was different from other humans, he also knew that other humans didn’t see what he saw. He was special in that way, and that’s why it was his responsibility to purge this world of the Darks.

By the time the sun was directly overhead, Cas was approaching the place where he’d killed yesterday. It didn't appear that human authority figures were tending to it which meant there was no closure yet. He'd have to check back tomorrow. For now, he contented himself with being sure there were no other Darks prowling the area. There was no base understanding for Cas of why he hunted the way he did; but it felt right to him. 

Cas had hoped his situation was temporary and that at some point an onslaught of memories would find him. When that happened, he’d have understanding. His life would make sense and the pain of the not knowing would be gone. Perhaps his dull aching chest would also be relieved. But as more and more days passed with without revelation, he grew more worried that he may never know.

 

 

 

Dean’s life at work was a little different now that he was out. His work friends seemed to be okay with him being gay, most of them anyway. But they didn’t seem to know how to talk to him anymore. It was painful to watch them trying to censor themselves. No one seemed able to just joke around with him anymore. The exception to the awkwardness was Ash.

Dean’s bumbling confession of being gay had brought laughter from Ash. As Dean stood slack-jawed with a wrench in his hand, Ash had clapped him on the shoulder and told Dean he was really sorry that they couldn’t be friends anymore. He'd been stunned into silence at the man's words but then Ash had dropped a friendly arm around Dean’s shoulders and said, “C’mon man, no self-respecting gay man would hang out with a dude that wears a mullet.”

Immediately, Dean had cracked up. It had been so great to have one friend who skipped right over the uncomfortable parts of the coming out process and went straight to laughter. At Singer's, Dean worked out on the repair shop floor while Ash worked behind the register and answered the phone. He was also the one who cataloged and priced all the parts in the salvage yard and dealt with the online portion of the business. He worked at his computer station all day and shipped the parts that had been ordered in between his dealings with those that stepped up to counter.

More than once, Dean had wished that Ash was actually a mechanic in the shop with him. But he still counted himself lucky. He had several guys that he considered friends working in close proximity and even among those that weren’t really friends, he’d experienced no real homophobia in his workplace.  Of the guys on the shop floor, it was Cole that he spent the most time with. Cole had been an excellent wingman when they’d both been on the prowl for pussy together. And he was good back up in a bar fight too. But ever since Dean had come out, Cole had treated him a little differently. Dean couldn’t put his finger on what was different… it just was.

When lunch rolled around, Dean was feeling like some barbeque so he hollered over his shoulder to Ash.

“Hey man, there was a roach coach over on The Paseo. I passed it on the way in this morning. Wanna come with me for lunch? See if it’s still there?”

“Oh I’m all over that,” laughed Ash as he grabbed his phone.

Dean moved to the sink that stood near the doorway to the shop and washed up. As he did, he could hear Ash calling back to Bobby’s office. It was Bobby who always came up front to mind the counter for breaks. As he dried his hands he listened to the two men talking and then leaned against the wall to wait for his friend.

“You drivin'?” asked Ash as he headed for the door.

“Yep,” he replied as he followed his friend out.

“Bring me back somethin’,” bellowed Bobby from behind them.

The ride over didn’t take long. It was hot and they rode with the windows down on the Impala and Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting from the speakers.

A “roach coach” is nothing more than the Kansas City version of a food truck... far less gourmet than the ones highlighted on the food network but every bit as delicious. The barbeque was always amazing at these places. But they were known as roach coaches for a reason. The trick to eating well with these was simple. Don’t look inside.

The conditions under which the food is prepared would give a health inspector a heart attack. The most succulent ribs you’d ever eat were being served from these trucks at bargain prices. But they were being served by a sweaty, dirty man. And if you looked beyond the man and into his truck, you stood a fair chance of losing your appetite.

Dean and Ash stepped up into the line. “You comin' out tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah, for a while I guess.”

“Dude, you shoulda stayed last night this chick totally…”

“I don’t wanna know,” interrupted Dean.

“You snooze, you lose bro.”

“Funny, I didn’t see anything I wouldn’t mind losing when I left there.”

“Man,” laughed Ash, “Never thought goin’ gay would turn you into a prude.”

“It didn’t.”

“Please,” Ash goaded flatly, “I’ve seen you take home far worse than what you passed up last night.”

Dean nodded, knowing there was truth in the words despite the levity of their conversation.

“Have you even hooked up since you came out?”

“And this is your business why?” challenged Dean.

“Hey man, I’m just lookin’ out.”

“Well, if you’re lookin’ out,” replied Dean, “watch for a guy who looks straight but is actually gay. I’m pretty sure that’s my type.”

“You really haven’t hit it with a dude yet?”

“Fuck, man,” barked Dean, raising his eyebrows as a signal to Ash to keep his voice down.

“What? Like I give fuck. You think I’ve never taken a walk on the wild side?”

“Seriously, what?” questioned Dean, absolutely stunned.

“You heard me,” Ash nodded as he stepped forward in line.

“I can’t even picture it,” Dean chuckled.

“Good. Cause if you picture it once, you’re just gonna want it all the time. And I don’t wanna have to chase you off with a damn stick.”

Dean laughed and shook his head.

“And, fuck Winchester, ain't it supposed to be easier to score with dudes?”

“You would think,” agreed Dean, relaxing his posture and pulling out his wallet as they stepped closer to the order window.

“You should try Grindr,” said Ash confidently.

“What’s that?”

“It’s an app or some shit. It’s for dudes that just wanna hit it… like now.”

Dean turned his back on Ash at that point, embarrassed at the thought of their conversation being overheard by those around them. His eyes swept over the scene on the sidewalk and rested, momentarily, on a man nearby. The man had been walking and had stopped short when Dean looked at him. The action of it was similar to that of someone who’d seen a long lost friend in an unexpected place. The man looked at Dean – like straight at him – right in the eyes. The two lingered in the moment, both seeming to try and place where they knew the other from. But Dean came up blank. He was certain he’d never seen this man before in his life.

The man didn’t seem to really know him either, or if he did he was unable to come up with a name or any way of greeting him. Dean turned his back on the awkward exchange and returned his attention to Ash.

“What?” Dean had to ask, having completely forgotten what they’d been talking about.

“Grindr,” reminded Ash, peering over Dean’s shoulder and likely trying to figure out what the distraction had been. “To hook up. Look it up man.” With that, Dean watched Ash step up to the front of the line. Dean chanced a glance over his shoulder and was stunned to see the man still staring at him.

He was an average height and weight with dark hair and blue eyes. Though the man was a stranger, those eyes were imploring and Dean found himself locked into them as if he were a spaceship caught in a tractor beam.

It was the rough jab of Ash’s elbow that broke the connection and forced Dean’s attention back to the order window.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head to clear it, “I’ll have two orders of ribs and two lemonades.”

“Half or full?” asked the attendant.

“Full. Two full racks.”

“Twenty eight bucks,” said the heavy man in a dirty apron.

Dean handed him thirty and told him to keep the change. Then, as he waited for his food, he looked back to the blue-eyed stranger. He had turned just in time to see the man pivot away from him and resume walking down the street. Less flustered now, he watched the man walk away from him. Only now did he realize that the man was homeless. The trench coat he wore was filthy and his shoes were battered. His stride was far more purposeful than that of most street people, but he was clearly one of them.

“Dude,” barked Ash, pulling Dean’s attention back to the window once more.

Dean nodded, seeing that his Styrofoam containers were being slid across the counter. He thanked the food man and took his items, exiting the line with Ash and heading back to where they’d parked the Impala.

“Fuck man,” cursed Ash as they settled the containers on the front seat between them, “I thought you were tryin'  to pick that dude up!”

“Whatever man,” said Dean dismissively as he pushed his drink into his friend’s hands and started up the car, “Dude was homeless.”

“I know. That’s why I thought you were trying to pick him up.”

“Right. I left you with all the skanks last night… just so I could make a try for a homeless dude today.”

“Hey,” said Ash firmly, but with a joking smirk, “It’s not my business what you do Winchester. Besides, when a dry spell lasts long enough, ten bucks buys a good handy.  And a big spender like you? If you wanna throw down a twenty to get blown over your lunch break… I’m not gonna judge.”

“Big spender?”

“Two full racks,” he laughed as he gestured to the food on the seat between them.

“One’s for Bobby.”

The two rode in silence for a few minutes, Dean reflective. Then, as they waited at a stop light, Dean looked over at Ash and said, “Really? Just ten bucks for a hand job?”

“So I hear,” answered Ash, tilting his head back and peering at Dean from under an arched eyebrow.

“You gotta be kiddin’. How would you even know that?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Ash, man, please tell me you’ve never…”

“Hey,” he interrupted, “I don’t judge you, so don’t you judge me.”

“But they’re so, I don't know, dirty? I mean, c'mon man, have you ever seen a homeless person with all their teeth?”

“The top of their heads all look just fine,” smirked Ash as he leaned in to put on some tunes.

Dean burst out laughing. It was silent for a minute before his friend looked back at him and said, “I can fuckin’ feel you judging me.”

“M’not man, I swear,” Dean said, struggling to say it without laughing.

“S’okay,” chuckled Ash, “M’cool with it.”

Both men were still laughing when they pulled into the shop. Bobby lingered at the counter with them as they ate, but began hassling them when they overstayed their lunch break. The rest of Dean’s day was relatively uneventful. But he did find himself thinking of the blue-eyed man a few times. He’d been so drawn to the man – so mesmerized by his eyes that he hadn’t even noticed the dude was homeless. It was strange. That was usually one of the first things he noticed about someone. You could spot a homeless person from twenty paces.

 

 

 

Cas spent the afternoon and evening working his way down The Paseo. It was hot, but he kept his coat with him. Later, when the sun went down, he’d need it. Yes his feet hurt and, yes, his head was pounding. He was sweaty and uncomfortable, the back of his neck gritty. All told, he was miserable. But the blissful contentment in his heart drowned out all his physical discomforts. He’d seen a Bright. He’d spent a few moments in its presence. That alone would normally make for a very good day.

But this Bright… this one in particular… there was something different about it. Being near to it had affected Cas in a way that no other Bright had before. The dull aching pain in his chest had disappeared completely. For a full minute or two as they’d stared at each other, even from three paces apart, the ache in his chest had vanished.

Every fiber of Cas’ being was buzzing from the event and the joy of it kept him buoyant for hours.


	2. I'm a Freak?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Ravenwolf36, for editing this for me! ;)

Dean was still buzzing a little when he got home that night. He kicked his boots off next to the door and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter as he walked though. He tugged his shirts off as he headed down the hall and tossed the bundle of clothes towards the hamper, missing it. Hands worked the belt buckle loose and jeans slid to his ankles, allowing him to step out of them in one smooth motion as he climbed into bed. He’d never even turned on a light. It had been good to slide between the cool sheets and know that there was nothing to get up early for in the morning. Saturday has always been his favorite day – no need to hop out of bed until he felt like it.

He’d had a good time at the bar with his work buddy’s. But as he laid in his comfy bed waiting for sleep to pull him under, Dean had to admit that getting buy one/get one drinks in a dive bar with his straight friends wasn’t going to help him find what he was looking for. He sighed heavily as he tried to get comfortable, hating to admit that he’s looking for something. But he is. He chuckled out loud thinking about his lunch with Ash… the way his friend had looked when he’d thought Dean was trying to pick up a homeless guy.

“M’not that desperate,” he mumbled aloud to himself, “Not yet, anyway.”

Then, on a whim, he leaned precariously over the edge of his bed. His hands had felt along the floor, searching for his discarded pants. When his fingers brushed denim he pulled the pile closer to him, searching out his pocket so he could extract his phone.

He hoisted himself back up into the bed and stacked up his pillows behind him. The phone lit up under his fingers as he searched out and found the Grindr app. He didn’t even hesitate to download it. Then he spent the next twenty minutes or so playing with it. There were 70 guys currently using the app within a ten block radius of his location.

“Damn,” he whispered disbelievingly, “I’ve hit the jackpot.”

He scrolled through his own picture library and selected what he thought was a very flattering profile pic. He didn’t enter much other personal information. Then, he started flicking through pictures of the guys who were nearby.

“Damn,” he muttered again. It was quite tantalizing to know that within 600 feet of him there were two hot guys cruising for a hook-up. He took a deep breath as he considered the possibility of engaging one of these guys. It would be so easy. He smiled as he imagined a gorgeous older man… salt and pepper hair… broad shoulders…

“Fuck,” he cursed flatly as he shoved his phone over to the nightstand and flopped back down on his pillow. Not tonight, he thought to himself. But maybe. Maybe sometime.

His phone glowed for a few minutes from the nightstand before it fell into ‘sleep’ mode and the room was black again. It had taken less time than that for Dean’s hand to find his half erect cock under the covers and start jacking it. Even considering the possibility of sex with a man had him eager and he quickly built up a steady pace with his fist. He didn’t bother with lube and he didn’t tease himself. He just clenched his eyes shut and worked himself to climax as quickly as possible. His knees were bent, feet pushing into the mattress as his fist worked double time and his hips pumped in sync with it. His broad shouldered man appeared in his mind’s eye for just a moment as he came. The man was more of a presence in his mind than a picture. The only visual image he saw was an intense flash of deep blue eyes. As soon as he’d finished Dean rolled over and let sleep take him; no further thought given to any man – only sweet oblivion.

 

 

 

Cas was weary. It was dark now, but with no breeze the heat was unbearable. He took off his coat and rolled it up to use as a pillow. He’d have liked to take off his shoes. Removing shoes and socks would be more comfortable for sleeping. It would also help his body stay cooler. But Cas never took off his shoes to sleep anymore. That was a lesson learned the hard way. He took his last three dollars from his pocket and shoved it down his underwear. Ready for sleep now, he scooted down to the end of the bench and used his balled up trench coat as a pillow. Despite how tired he was and how badly he needed to rest, he had trouble falling asleep. He kept his eyes closed and let his mind wander. After all, he may not be able to sleep but at least he could rest his body.

The remains of the woman he’d killed yesterday wasn’t discovered yet. He’d have to walk by her dwelling again tomorrow. He’d not come across any new Darks today. But he’d seen a Bright. He’d had a fuzzy good feeling in his chest for hours today because of his proximity to it. To him. To the green eyed man. Now, alone in the park in the dark, the chest-ache was back and that buoyant mirthful feeling was gone. But it had been wonderful while it lasted and he smiled just remembering it… the feeling of contentment… the complete loss of any and all pain… the urge to continue moving closer.

 

 

 

Dean had no idea how long he’d been asleep when his phone went off. He reached out and plucked it from the nightstand, squinting at the screen to see the time. It was 2:17 in the morning and it was Sammy calling.

“What is it?” Dean barked, holding the phone to his ear with one hand as he flicked the lamp on with the other.

“Dean? Were you sleeping?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

“Um, it happened again.”

“Was it a dream or a vision?”

“Dream.”

“Write it down.”

“Dean…”

“Fuckin write it down Sammy. I’m on my way.”

Hanging up, he grabbed the phone charger and threw it in his duffle bag with a change of clothes. Rushing, he threw on clean clothes and zippered up his bag as he muttered out loud, “Phone, wallet, bag…” He looked around, progress slowing for a moment as he contemplated what he was missing. “Keys!” he snapped his fingers as he headed for the kitchen to grab them from the counter and was sliding into the driver’s seat in record time.

Giving no thoughts to his sleeping neighbors Dean barreled out of his garage, tapping the garage door remote on his visor as he threw the car in gear and squealed tires on the street in his haste to get to Sammy.

The drive to Bobby’s place wasn’t long, especially at this hour when the streets were all but deserted.  Bobby’s house backed up to the salvage yard from the opposite side as the shop, essentially trapping the scrap yard between home and work. When Dean pulled in the drive, every light in the house was on.

Dean threw the car in park and ran for the door. Ellen must’ve heard him pull in because she was swinging the door open just as his feet hit the front porch steps. She greeted him with a warm hug and then stepped aside for him to enter.

Bobby was pacing near the fire place and Sam was sitting on the couch, his journal open on his knees. He was scribbling furiously. Dean stepped over to his brother and looked over his shoulder at the journal. There were hastily scribbled notes and little sketches… it was just a wash of meaningless things to Dean… but to Sammy it was like clues.

“Got anything we can use to pin down a location?” he asked.

“No. I’ve got a clock though. Twelve twenty. Can’t be tonight cause we’re past midnight. I think its happening tomorrow over lunch at the earliest.”

“What’s that?” Dean asked, pointing to a small drawing of a triangular sign with the words ‘Blue Ridge’ on it.

“It’s not perfect. I only saw a glimpse of it. But there was something similar to this… the emblem on a bus.”

“School bus?”

“City bus,” replied Sam firmly.

“Well that’s somethin’ to start with,” nodded Bobby, moving to his desk in the corner.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked Bobby as Sammy continued to sketch.

“I’m gonna Google Blue Ridge Bus Line and see how many there are. Maybe we can use that to narrow down the city.”

“Awesome,” said Dean, turning his attention back to Sammy’s chicken scratch writing.

“It happens in a store,” said Sam. “It’s a shooting. The guy walks in and says he wants to see one of the guns. He knew the guy behind the counter. They were friendly. He loaded the gun and shot the guy. Then he shot himself.”

“Jesus,” said Dean and Ellen in unison.

“I think you better pack these boys a cooler,” said Bobby to his wife, “looks like they’re goin' to Guthrie Oklahoma.”

Dean pulled out his phone immediately and pulled up a map. “It’s almost four hundred miles,” he said, “We can be there before noon but not by much. How sure are you of the location Bobby?”

“I could only find the one. So, pretty sure.”

“I’ll get your bag, Sam,” reassured Dean when he saw Sam glance up at him from the couch and then continue sketching furiously. He pounded up the stairs to his brother’s room and began tossing things into a duffle. He grabbed the kid’s cell from his bed-side table and snatched his toothbrush from the bathroom as he passed by it.

By the time Dean reached the bottom of the stairs, Ellen was carrying a cooler out from the kitchen. As he brushed past her, he dropped Sam’s bag on top of it and then took it from her hands.

“You boys be safe now,” she said as he backed away from her with it and pushed through the screen door.

“Yes ma’am,” he winked at her as he turned away. He shoved the cooler in the backseat and headed back inside to collect his brother.

“You ready?” he asked, standing half in and half out of the screen door.

Sam nodded, snapping his journal shut and standing to hug Bobby.

“You boys want me along?”

“Nah,” said Dean, working to put on his most convincing poker face, “You stay here and rest those old codger knees of yours. We’ll be callin'.”

When Sam stepped back from Bobby and turned to hug Ellen, Dean stepped up and took his turn hugging the man who was more his daddy than his real father had ever been.

They jogged down the drive to the Impala and climbed in. They were both breathing heavily, though not from running a few paces. There was adrenaline pumping in both of them, Dean could practically taste it in the air. As they rolled out of the drive, Dean glanced in the rearview mirror and saw both Bobby and Ellen in the doorway, arm in arm and waving to them.

He hit the gas and felt the power as his Baby roared beneath them and surged forward. They were just getting on the interstate when Dean looked over and said, “Hey Sammy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you have a dream or a vision or whatever… can you try and have it in a place with a beach and some palm trees and shit?”

“I’ll try,” his brother laughed.

“Oklahoma,” sighed Dean.

“Oklahoma,” replied Sam flatly.

 

 

 

Cas did his best to rest. It was easier here than it had been under the overpass. There were less disturbances here too. But he’d been told that one could be arrested for sleeping in the park and the fear of being approached by a human authority figure kept him dozing lightly and listening for footsteps rather than actually sleeping. He changed positions often due to the discomfort associated with sleeping on the wooden planks of the bench and pondered the wisdom of continuing to try and sleep out in the open.

One of his first friends had told him to try the City Union Mission. But his experience there had been difficult. He’d stepped up to the desk with his hopes high, only to have them crushed. The first thing they started doing was asking him a bunch of questions that he couldn’t answer. Those assisting him made it clear that they were only trying to help, but their attempts at help seemed to center around finding out more and more information about him. He had stood there, watching helplessly as the woman had entered his name into a computer. He immediately regretted having given his name. He had no idea why, but he experienced a very visceral reaction to seeing his information entered into a mechanical device. Overall the experience of giving his name to people as he made friends was a positive one, so he had no idea what his aversion was to having his name stored electronically but his instincts were all he had… it was impossible to imagine not heeding the warnings they sent him.

More than one person had assisted him that day, going over the rules and what was expected of him. He’d have to endure restrictions on what time he’d have to arrive and leave. He’d be expected to attend a religious service. He’d be subject to inspection. All of these things interfered with his ability to hunt as he was used to. Additionally, they kept trying explain to him the benefits of participating in a long term program that would help him get back on his feet. That had been the last straw. These people didn’t understand. He didn’t need to be on his feet. He’d been on them all day. He’d come here to rest his feet. He’d come here because he’d been told he could sleep in a bed. He had no idea what a bed was, but from the way the word was said, Cas could tell that it was a very desirable thing.

However, between having his name in the computer, the constant questions and the references that he didn’t understand Cas realized that coming to “the shelter” had been a mistake. He had shuffled out of there as best as he could without being aggressive to those who were trying to help him. He’d wandered down to the river instead and sat on the bank for a while, watching the water ripple past as the sun went down. Eventually, when he felt no one was looking, he moved up the bank and away from the walking path. He’d slipped into the trees and had slept relatively well leaning against a wide tree trunk. He’d found it peaceful there amidst the hum of insects and animal noises. The sounds of the city, even the ever present sound of cars had been distant in that spot. Of course, he’d been covered in bites the next morning. It had seemed miserable at the time, sweating in the heat all day while his skin itched and burned from the bites. But now, tired as he was, the raging itch of bug bites seemed a small price to pay for a full night of uninterrupted sleep.

Awake now, and realizing that any more sleep was unlikely, he put on his trench coat and began walking out of the park. Thinking of the decent rest he’d had in the woods along the river made sleeping there tonight sound like a wonderful idea. He’d had very little viable sleep over the last few days and it was taking its toll on his body. As he headed back north, he planned his day.

He’d continue working his way north, still hunting on this same street and making sure to stop and check his latest kill. Hopefully the authorities would find her soon. He was growing tired of going back past her place. It made him uneasy. He’d try to visit the place with free food again today, not wanting to spend the last of his currency unless he absolutely had to.  The place with free food was at the north end of The Paseo so it was perfect. He’d spend his day hunting on the way up there and then get a meal. It wasn’t far from the food to the river so he’d be able to go to sleep for the night in a peaceful place with a full stomach. It was going to be a good day.

 

 

 

Dean had the radio turned down so that Sammy could sleep. He kept his eyes on the road as it stretched out before him in the dark, Baby’s grill eating up the white dashes on the highway like PacMan eats yellow dots.

The first indications of color were just starting to bloom along the horizon line when Sammy stirred next to him. Dean turned to glance at his brother and saw him pull out his journal. He expected to see him start scribbling in it again. But no, he was flipping through the pages and using his cell phone for light as he scanned page after page.

“You lookin for somethin?” Dean asked him.

“Yeah,” answered Sam absentmindedly, “Give me a sec. It might be nothing.”

Dean nodded and returned his attention to the road. Several minutes passed before Sam spoke again. Dean had just started to lose himself in his thoughts only to be startled when Sam snapped the journal shut.

“You know who I’m thinking about Dean?”

“Who?”

“Max.”

“Max the kid from Michigan? The kid that telepathically killed his dad? That Max?”

“Telekinetic, Dean. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s got you thinkin' about him?”

“Well, the connection I guess. Both of us losing our moms the same way and at the same age… there’s a connection there.”

“This isn’t news, Sam.”

“Look Dean, I’ve been racking my brain for hundreds of miles and I can’t think of anything to help me ID the people we need to save. There’s just nothing in my dream that gets me close to them. We need a positive ID and we need it quick. The suns coming up.”

“I get it Sammy, I do. It sucks to have this thing… this weird psychic connection or whatever… to see danger coming and not have all the info to stop it. But I don’t see what Max has to do with any of it.”

“Me neither,” said Sam, slumping in his seat. “But I think we should be working another angle.”

Dean looked over at his brother again. In the pink light of sunrise, he watched Sam put his phone to his ear. He could only hear Sam’s end of the conversation over the road noise. “Hey Bobby… Yep we’re still on the road… Were you sleeping?... No, he’s fine. I was hoping you could do some digging for me.”

Dean was listening intently to find out what his baby brother would ask “Uncle” Bobby to research.

“Well, we know the town is Guthrie,” Sam was saying, “Can you check into the police reports and find any deceased women who were killed in a house fire but had surviving children?”

Dean held his question, choosing to wait until the call was ended before speaking again.

“How long?” asked Sam into the phone, pausing for the answer. Then he said, “Ok, thanks Bobby.”

Turning to Dean he said, “Bobby’s gonna call us back when he’s got something. He needs at least half an hour.”

“Where you goin' with all this Sammy?”

“I’m looking for a connection. It’s not a slam dunk, I know that. But noon is less than six hours away. We need something… we need to know where to start when get to town. Otherwise our entire plan boils down to driving around Guthrie Oklahoma and looking for a clock like the one I saw in my dream.”

“I see your point,” nodded Dean, exiting the interstate.

“Need gas?” asked Sam as they coasted down the ramp.

“Nope. Gotta piss.”

A quick break to use the facilities was all they allowed themselves and then they were back on the road. Traffic was picking up now with the arrival of morning and it was over an hour before they finally heard back from Bobby. He gave Sam only one name. Andrew Gallagher. He was the only one in town that matched the criteria. Bobby had been unable to find an address for the guy – only a last known residence and a last known employer. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

When they motored into town, they checked the apartment first and then his previous work place. All they had to show around was a printout of the guy’s driver’s license. Bobby had emailed it to Sam and the boys had printed it off at Kinko’s. So far they had zero new information and the hour hand on Dean’s watch was galloping towards eleven.

The previous workplace turned out to be diner. As the waitress poured them coffee, they showed her the printout and asked if she knew him. She was cute as a button and immediately admitted that she knew him. She smiled a bit each time she spoke of him, chuckling as she mentioned that they weren’t the first to darken the door of this diner looking for Andy. She didn’t come out and say that she’d once been Andy’s girlfriend, but Dean could see it on her. He had sense for these things… for seeing the real meaning behind the things they said. Another employee had heard them talking and joined in. Andy, it seemed, was well liked by his old work buddies.

“Look,” she’d told them, “If you want to find Andy, try Orchard Street. He drives a van with a Barbarian Queen painted on the side.”

“A Barbarian Queen?” Dean repeated, surprised by how fun that was to say.

“Yeah,” she said with an eye roll, “she’s riding a polar bear. It’s kind of hard to miss.”

They left her a good tip as they abandoned their coffees and made for the door. There simply wasn’t time to waste. While Dean drove, Sam barked out directions for him, navigating with his phone until they finally turned onto Orchard Street. They’d been cruising less than a dozen blocks when they spotted the van.

“Dude, I’m startin' to like this kid,” chuckled Dean, “that van is sweet.”

Sam nodded absently, eyes already roving the street around them. Dean maneuvered into a parking space across the street from the Barbarian Queen and turned off the car. They’d only been there a few minutes when they spotted Andy. He was leaving someone’s condo. He didn’t look like much. Small build, lousy haircut, sweat pants and…

“Is that a kimono he’s wearing?” huffed Dean.

Sam didn’t respond. He was watching carefully as the guy headed for his van, stopping along the way to talk a random passer-by out of their coffee. It was just as Andy was reaching his van that Sam sat up ram-rod straight.

“That’s him Dean, that’s the shooter,” said Sam, pointing to a man who’d stopped to talk to Andy.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” answered Sam with certainty.

“You stay with him then, I’ll stick with Andy.”

Sam jumped out the car and began walking down the street to intercept the shooter and tail him. Dean hit the gas and followed Andy when he pulled his van out into traffic. Dean stuck to him like glue through town, no problem.

But when the van pulled to a stop on a side street and the driver exited, Dean was uncertain what to do. To his surprise the kid walked right up to his window. It made him nervous at first, not really sure what was going to happen. But he was surprised by how quickly he came to like the kid. After all, the kid loved classic cars. They had that in common. And he complimented Dean on his restoration job too. He was out of the car before he knew it. It wasn’t until he was found himself standing in the street and watching Andy drive away in his beloved Baby that he realized he’d been bamboozled.

He gritted his teeth as he jumped into Andy’s idling van and drove off after him. He had no idea which direction Andy had turned at the next intersection, his lucidity having returned slowly. He was a little groggy too, as if he’d just woken from a dream. When his phone rung, he dug into his pocket to answer. It was Sam.

“Dean, where are you?”

“I’m in Andy’s van.”

“I just saw him driving the Impala… what happened?” demanded Sam.

“I don’t know man, he just asked me for it and I let him have it.”

“You what!?!”

“He did a full on Obi Wan Kenobi. It’s mind control Sam!”

“Dean, get back here.”

“Where are you?”

“Two blocks west of where you left me. You can’t miss it. It’s a crime scene.”

Dean refocused on the road and on watching the names of the streets so he could get back to Sam. When he pulled up, he could see Sam sitting on the curb. His brother didn’t look well. As Dean settled beside him on the curb, Sam started to fill him in.

“I was following him and I saw the clock and the bus. It was just like my dream. So I ran across the street ahead of him and beat him to the store. I pulled the fire alarm.”

“Great! That was perfect.”

“I thought it was over. I thought I stopped it. I was turning to follow him and that’s when it happened.”

“What happened?”

“He walked out in front of that bus over there.”

“Jesus.”

“I know.”

“Not what I meant Sammy,” replied Dean, eyes staring over Sam’s shoulder and down the block.

“What did you mean?” pressed Sam.

Dean stood and pointed, next to him Sam stood too.

“Jesus, thank God!” exclaimed Dean as he broke out into a run, Sammy trailing behind him. He’d spotted his Baby parked on the next block over. He approached it carefully but when he saw the window down and the keys in it, he sighed a prayer of thanks to any entity listening for this glorious second chance. The two wasted no time hopping in the car and reclaiming what was theirs. As Dean turned the key and maneuvered out of the space, Sam was leaning over the bench seat to peer into the back to see if all their stuff was still here.

“What now Dean?” he asked when he sat down.

“Nothin'. We go home.”

“We can’t go home. Dean,” Sam said imploringly, “A dream brought me here.”

“Yeah, to stop that dude from dyin'. You did your best. But I really don’t see what else there is for us to do here.”

“I don’t think my dream led me here to save that guy. I think it led me here for Andy.”

“What about him?”

“You said it Dean… it's mind control. And in my dream, right before the guy went in and started shooting he was talking on his phone. I’ll give you three guesses what that same guy was doing right before he stepped out in front of a bus.”

“Talkin on the phone?”

“Yeah. You‘re the one who said it Dean. Its mind control. I think Andy’s doing this.”

“You think Andy called him and told him to step in front of a bus?”

“That’s exactly what I think.”

“So we stay on Andy then,” said Dean firmly, “You better call Bobby and report in.”

They stayed in the car, parking behind some bushes to keep it out of sight. But their eyes were glued to Andy’s conspicuous van – both of them certain he’d return to it upon finding the Impala missing.  As they sat there, they ate lunch from the cooler Ellen had packed them, talked to Bobby about things and poured over internet searches from the clues they had.

The man who’d died was a psychiatrist and Andy had been his patient. It didn’t seem like much to go on though, because the doc was clean. No inappropriate behavior. There just wasn’t anything popping up as an obvious motive. As they were discussing everything, Andy appeared in their window. Apparently, hiding behind a row of bushes wasn’t the brilliant act of subterfuge they’d initially thought it would be.

“I’ve been seeing you guys,” Andy yelled at them through Sam’s window, “Why are you following me?”

Sam immediately launched into a cover story, thinking quickly to keep ahead and not reveal their true identity or purpose to the subject of their little investigation. Dean, on the other hand, was experiencing a bout of verbal diarrhea that would not be stopped. He told Andy that they were in town to stop a killer who had psychic powers and that they’d come a long way to do it because Sam was a psychic too.

“Shut up Dean!” barked Sam.

“I’m trying!” defended Dean before continuing to further expose them. He knew he was being bamboozled again but no matter what he tried, he couldn’t stop talking! It was horrifying.

“Just leave me alone,” said Andy.

“Okay,” Dean agreed, turning his head in shame. It was killing him that Sam was witness to his weak mindedness. He felt Sam get out of the car but he didn’t follow. He kept his eyes shut and his hands on the wheel. Sam, unlike Dean, had been able to lie to Andy. It was best to just let his brother do the talking. He got out of the car and watched from a distance as Sam followed after Andy and challenged him head on. Dean was watching as his brother towered over Andy and demanded to know why he’d killed his shrink. He watched Andy deny it and then he watched as his brother had a vision in broad daylight.

He watched Sam fight it and lose. He watched his brother cover his face in horror at whatever his mind was showing him. And then he watched him crumble. Dean was on him in heartbeat, positioning his body between Sam and Andy.

“Sammy, what is it?”

“I’m not doing anything to him,” insisted Andy.

“A woman,” said Sam, grabbing Dean by his lapels, “A woman burning alive.”

“What else Sam?” prodded Dean, “What else can you tell us?”

“A woman, she’s gonna kill herself. She gets triggered by a call on her cell.” Sam struggled to his feet and locked an ice cold stare on Andy. “As long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he can’t hurt her.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” insisted Andy. Just as he said it, the three had to turn and watch a parade of firetrucks and police cars tear down the street with sirens wailing.

Following the chaos down the street they stumbled upon the gory scene of a woman who had doused herself with gasoline and lit herself on fire.

“Not much of a head start on this one Sammy,” whispered Dean.

“Dean, I can’t control it.”

“Well, we know one thing for sure now.”

“What’s that?”

“It can’t be Andy. We were with him and he never called her. Someone else is the trigger guy.”

Dean left his brother with Andy. The two of them were clearly bonding, talking about their abilities and how they seemed to work. Dean headed back to the crime scene to see what he could dig up. When he finally returned to Sam and Andy, he had a wealth of information for them.

“The victim’s name was Holly Becket,” he told them, “I called Bobby and we did some digging. It turns out that Ms. Becket gave birth in 1983… the same day you were born, Andy.”

“Okay,” he said, clearly not understanding a connection, “What’s that got to do with me?”

“She gave birth to twins Andy… twins that she gave up for adoption.”

“Andy, were you adopted?” asked Sam.

Both brothers watched as the gears turned in Andy’s head. He nodded to them as the realization washed over him. “She was my birthmother. And now she’s dead.”

“We can’t be sure of that,” interjected Dean. “We’ll need to check the hard copy of the records to be sure.”

It was fun watching Andy work his magic. He easily talked them past the front desk and into the back file rooms of the county courthouse where they poured over records uninterrupted. They found that Andy was indeed the child of Holly Becket and the brother of one surviving twin.

“Wait, check it out,” said Dean, handing paperwork over to Andy, “Dr. Pancake was your birth mom’s shrink too. He was involved in the placement of you and your twin brother.”

“We need to find your twin, Andy. He’s the only real connection we know of between both victims.” Dean watched both Sam and Andy nod at his suggestion.

“Oh my god,” said Andy, perplexed, “I actually have an evil twin.”

“And now, we have his picture,” nodded Dean, pulling a page from the printer with a wink, “got his DMV records.”

Dean handed Andy the picture of his twin brother’s driver’s license. Dean had immediately recognized the young man in the picture and he knew that Andy would too. It was the kid that had talked to them at the diner this morning when they’d talked to the waitress who’d directed them to Andy’s van.

Dean watched Andy look at the picture and die a little inside. The three went together to intercept the evil twin. They tried everything to reason with him too. But in the end, it had come to blows. With both Sam and Andy immune to his powers, he’d been able to control only Dean and that left him outnumbered. He’d fought anyway, but it didn’t end well. It had been hard to watch Andy’s face as his brother newly discovered twin tumbled to his death.

It had been a very long day so they decided to stay the night before driving back. They headed over to The Interstate Motel, a sprawling and dilapidated complex they’d passed on their way into town. Dean was grinning like a fool as he watched Andy charm the man at the check in desk. He left the two gifted buddy’s in the room, both still hammering each other with questions about how their psychic gifts seemed to work and how it had changed their lives. Outside in the parking lot, he leaned against his baby and called Bobby to fill him in on everything and to let him know they’d be heading back tomorrow.

 

 

 

When Cas woke, it was to the pleasant sound of birds chirping. The sun was climbing in the sky. He sat up and looked around. It was beautiful here, warm sunlight filtering through the green leafy canopy above. It felt so good to be properly rested. This had been, by far, the best night of sleep he’d had since his waking. Including this morning’s sunrise, he’d been counting time for 23 days. Standing, he stretched and then turned towards the tree he’d slept under. He unzipped his pants to relieve himself. When finished, he walked back out of the trees and into plain sight. His feet were getting wet as he walked along the grassy river bank. Soon he was back near the walking path that snaked along the river. There were park benches lining it and Cas sat down on one to eat a pack of pocket crackers. He was enjoying the view of the river and this early part of the day when it wasn’t hot yet. That’s when he saw it. It was just a glimpse as a woman walked past him. But she’d seen him sitting there and had looked over at him, eyes locking for the briefest moment. Once he’d seen it, he couldn’t unsee it. He stood and began to follow her.

She was very clean and well kept, he noticed, but she had no light in her. None at all. In place of the soft warm glow that most humans had, she was a swirl of churning black vapor. He stood and followed. As he walked along behind her, he could feel the air around him changing. A familiar sense of wrongness settled into his bones and the longer he stayed with her the more certain he was that she was evil.

He glanced behind himself and around, taking in his surroundings. There was a car just pulling in to the parking lot higher up the embankment. It was perhaps a stone’s throw away. So, he kept his attention on car as his eyes swept the 360 degree circle of land around him. This part of the riverside park was pretty quiet today. There was a man jogging toward them – a sound contraption wired from his arm to his ears. Cas looked past the approaching man and saw no one else coming. The path from where the man had just come was curving into a copse of trees and seemed to be entirely deserted. Cas glanced behind him again. The car that had just parked was empty now, its driver having started running the opposite direction down the path.  It was just him and the Dark and the one other jogger who was likely not going to hear anything with a device in his ears. Cas prepared himself as the male jogger whooshed past him.

His heart was beating wildly as he quickened his pace, closing the gap between himself and the Dark. He didn’t want to miss an opportunity if there was about to be one. She was walking briskly, pushing a cart of some kind. As they approached the bend in the path, Cas was pressing in on her back. Then, when the view around the bend presented itself, he saw the coast was clear. Behind him there was no one watching. Ahead there was no one watching. There were no electrical boxes around that may have recorded a video of them. With zero hesitation and the strength of a mighty warrior, Cas seized her.

As soon as he touched her, the vile and noxious evil of her presence began to crawl over him like a million bugs. His stomach revolted and he had to swallow down the juices that backed up in his throat. He hefted her off her feet and flung her from the path. The cart she’d been pushing swayed but didn’t fall, so abrupt and forceful was his attack. She landed in the wet grass next to the path, a tumble of arms and legs. He took a step toward her and watched her mouth open to scream. He was on her then, hand covering her mouth, while his other hand slid around behind her neck. With one lethal snap, he ended her life. The crunch of her spine cracking was nauseating to him, but this wasn’t the time to let his pocket crackers come surging back up. He grabbed her at the armpits and began dragging her away from the path and into the woods. He took her about fifty feet and then dropped her there. He wanted her off the path and out of sight of any young who might be brought to this place. After all, he’d seen a lot of small children here. But, he also didn’t want to wait too long for her to be discovered so he made no attempt to hide her body.

As he positioned her neatly, he forced his body to obey his will. It wasn’t easy. His legs wanted to run. His stomach wanted to retch. His face wanted to break and his eyes wanted to cry. But at least the loathsome feeling of pulsing evil had dissipated and now all that was left was the shell. The part that other humans saw. The body of a young woman.

Cas looked around again, sensing that his time had grown short. That’s when a shrill cry broke the stillness. It pulled his attention to the cart that this woman had been pushing. He stepped back to it and peered inside. His breath was lost from him for a moment and his knees threatened to fail. There, buried in soft pink blankets, was an infant. The smallest child he’d ever seen… still too young to walk or even crawl. He assumed it to be a little girl because of delicate shape of her eyes and mouth, but he couldn’t be sure. She was as swaddled, protesting now with throaty cries and wet tears as the sun stung her eyes.

Cas reached out and pulled the canvas visor out over her, looking around as he did. He was alone with the child. But, he sensed, he wouldn’t be alone for long. He’d already lingered at the scene far longer than he normally would. He stared down at the soft gurgling bundle. His heart went out to the child for the suffering it certainly would have endured as the child of a Dark, and for the questions she would live with now that she’d been deprived of her caregiver with no understanding of why. If only, he thought. If only there was a way to explain to this child that it would be better off alone than being raised by the essence of evil.

The little thing closed her eyes and appeared to go back to sleep. Cas turned then and ran. He cut through the trees, passing the place where he’d left the mother. He got winded quickly as his feet carried him steadily uphill and over rugged terrain. When he reached the top of the rise, he stopped. Ahead of him the trees thinned out gave way to the busy street. He pivoted to look back down the way he’d come. He had a good view from here, so he crouched by a tree and waited. He watched the baby intently. It didn’t take long. When a pair of females came walking briskly around the bend, he saw them stop dead.

It was likely an unusual sight… a baby transportation device just sitting in the middle of the path untended. He watched the two women approach it. One of them raised a hand to her mouth. The other spun around… eyes searching as she turned… scouring the scenery and probably hoping to find the mother of this lone child. When he saw her pull a talking device out of her pocket, he knew the baby was in good hands. These women would likely stay with the child until authority figures came to take her away. The thought set Cas’ mind to wondering what the world did with unclaimed children like this. He hoped the baby at least had a father somewhere. And moreover, he hoped for the sake of the child that its father wasn’t a Dark. Because if he was… Cas would eventually find him.

 

 

 

The next morning, over continental breakfast at the Interstate Motel in Guthrie, Dean watched Sam say his goodbyes to Andy. They agreed to keep in touch and let each other know if any new information presented itself. When they headed out of town, Sam was agitated. He was more convinced than ever that there was some link between all of his visions… not just these few most recent ones.

“I think it’s time to start telling people,” said Sam.

“Telling people what?”

“Telling people about my visions, Dean. Dad for starters. He should know!”

“Yeah, Sammy, cause what Dad needs right now is another crusade.”

“Have you heard from him lately regarding the one he’s already on?”

“He’s not telling me anything these days, Sammy.” Dean didn’t mean to be sour with Sam. But it hurt having to be reminded that his own father had been radio silent since his coming out.

“Look Dean, I know you’re pissed at him. And you have every right to be. But do you really want to keep pretending like this doesn’t have something to do with Mom?”

“Sam, Bobby knows. And even he hasn’t thought we should tell Dad. If Dad should know… don’t you think Bobby would tell him? We’ve kept this secret for a reason Sammy. To protect you. Bobby and Rufus know their shit. Now, whatever Dad’s into… it’s no good. He doesn’t have their support. That should tell you something. Now, a lot of shit has gone down. And I know you’re confused right now. I am too. But the one thing I’m sure of is that this should be secret.  Until we understand what your power actually is and how to control it, we can’t possibly expect that others who find out about you won’t want to control you for what you can do. The people who care about you have sacrificed a lot to keep you safe. Don’t ruin it now, okay?”

“Dean,” said Sam softly, “This isn’t the Middle Ages. They’re not gonna call me a witch and burn me at the stake. They’re also not going to come and take me away like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter. Cops use psychics all the time – it’s pretty mainstream. They help solve crimes. I could be helpful. And maybe, just maybe, they could help me too!”

“Sammy, I know you like to believe that our government agencies are good. But you have to remember what Bobby said. If you’re for real… if you can help them at all then you’ll become an asset… they’ll take you away from us… find a way to use you. We’re only just starting to understand what you can do and the connections behind what you see. I don’t think this is the time to just come out and announce to the world that you’re some kind of psychic freak!”

“I’m a freak Dean?”

Immediately Dean regretted his words. They’d been chosen carelessly in the heat of an argument. But as he looked at his brother, he knew there was no way to take them back. Sickened by what he’d said, Dean simply added, “Look, Bobby and Rufus know things. More than you and me. We’ve always trusted them and for good reason. If they say we keep quiet, then we goddam keep quiet. Okay?”

Sam didn’t answer. He simply dipped his head in a gesture of submission and turned to face out his window. Dean set his full attention on the highwayagain, clenching the steering wheel tightly in frustration. For hundreds of miles neither brother said a word.

The brothers had taken a little detour on the way back to Kansas City, exiting from I70 and coasting into Lawrence. They’d stopped at a flower shop to buy a bouquet and then headed over to the graveyard. They’d stood together at their mothers headstone for quite some time, neither angry at the other anymore. Dean had felt his big little brother lean into his shoulder a bit and he’d leaned a little too, both of them seeking and finding support in the gesture as their shoulders touched.

“She’d have been proud of you, ya know,” Dean had said they stared solemnly down at her flowers.

“What do you suppose she’d have thought of all this psychic shit?” Sam asked, not looking at his brother.

“I don’t suppose anything Sammy. The older I get, the more sure I am. If Mom was alive, we’d have all the answers. She died for them you know.”

“Yeah,” whispered Sammy, “I know.”

Bobby didn’t seem to question the extra-long hug he got from both brothers when they finally arrived back home. They’d all sat down at the table and tucked in a delicious home cooked meal that Ellen had prepared. Afterwards, Dean said his goodbyes and headed home. He’d been gone all weekend and it was now Sunday night. Tomorrow morning he has to go back to work. Road weary and emotionally rung out, he’d trudged into the house.

Keys got slung onto the counter and clothes got tossed to the hamper. He didn’t bother with sleep pants at all, simply sliding naked into crisp cool sheets. It felt wonderful to sleep in his own bed again after two days divided between his hot car and a cheap hotel room. Ready to surrender to sleep soon, he slid his finger across the screen of his phone, waking it up so he could set an alarm. He’d been noticing a new little icon at the top lately, but with all the excitement, he’d yet to check it. As he pulled it up, he realized that it was Grindr. The app had been running the entire time he’d been gone. He had messages… loads of them. Most were from the Guthrie area and some were in locations that they’d only just passed through as they’d been driving to Oklahoma and back.

But, one of the most recent was from right here in his neighborhood. Curious now, he opened it. The profile picture was pretty damn decent. The man was obviously well built… bigger than Dean’s ideal but smaller than your average bear and far more attractive. He had vapor blue eyes and a full beard. The eyes weren’t quiet as magnetic as the homeless guy’s had been, but this dude had the obvious advantage of not being a street urchin. The message said simply, “Hey.”

So Dean responded back, “Hey.”

He smiled as the next message came back immediately. They exchanged a few generalized messages, both showing interest, and Dean quickly admitted it was his first time using the app to talk to someone. The guy’s name was Benny. And he promised to be gentle. Dean smiled at the flirtation and agreed to meet for a drink tomorrow after work. Then, too tired to even jerk off, he’d set his phone on the night stand and slipped into a deep sleep.

Monday morning found Dean well rested. He’d a bit resentful that he’d had no weekend, but he headed off to work just the same. He endured a bit of razzing from both Ash and Cole who had been texting all weekend to come out with them. He’d blown them off, telling them he was out of town and now he was paying the price for it.

As he and Ash made their lunch run, they’d done rock-paper-scissors in the car for who would choose their destination. Dean lost and suggested they go another round to see who should pay. Sadly, he lost again.

“The fuck,” he curses, “Where we goin'?”

“Wendy’s,” answered Ash.

It was a little out of the way, but Dean didn’t complain. At least he’d been responsible for buying Ash a burger and a frosty… not full set of ribs. They’d been laughing and joking around as Dean pulled in and parked. The line was out the door and Dean begrudgingly stepped up to it. It was hot outside and he could smell the blacktop baking in the parking lot, its pungent scent overruling his hungry stomach and tricking him into thinking he’d lost his appetite. He’d been sweating by the time he and Ash are able to actually get inside the restaurant. A cool blast of air hit his face as they pushed inside. Just as he’d been moving through the door, another man was stepping forward to exit. Dean was just stepping aside for the guy when he caught sight of the eyes. Magnetic and focused. Focused on Dean.

The man is fixated on him as he brushes past and time seems to slow down for a moment. Dean can’t help but stare, the eyes locked on his so deep and inquisitive. It’s like the man is infatuated with the sight of Dean and it simply can’t be hidden. A tumble of different reactions hit him during this distended moment… recognition first. This is the homeless man he’d noticed on Friday. Excitement swelled too. He’s thrilled to see the man again, though he has no idea why. Dean finds himself feeling invigorated to when he sees his own excitement reflected in the other man’s eyes… he’s as happy to see Dean as Dean is to see him. It’s all so very strange.

Unbeknownst to Dean, there’s a bottleneck in the doorway. Behind the homeless man there were other customers waiting to exit and foot traffic had come to a standstill while he and this stranger stared at one another. It was the weirdest thing – and the moment is snapped like a rubber band when some asshole gave the man a shove and told him to get his filthy ass moving. Dean’s eyes flicked to the asshole and then back to the homeless guy. Sadly, the moment had been broken and the man turned to walk away. As Dean watched him go he noticed that the dude was wearing a dirty trench coat in the middle of a sticky summer afternoon. The temperature had been over 90 degrees outside. Unsure of what to make of the exchange, he’d looked back at Ash.

“Same guy you wanted to blow last week?” he asked through laughter.

“You wanted me to blow him,” Dean retorted without missing a beat, “I told you I don’t do homeless guys.”

“You don’t do any guys,” Ash threw back at him.

“Touché,” he chuckled, “Although, you were right about Grindr.”

“You dog!” Ash howled, “I knew that’s what was up when you wouldn’t come out with us! You’re not even walking funny… guess butt sex agrees with ya, huh?”

“Fuck, Ash! Keep it down!” Dean growled, glancing around at the others waiting in line.

“C’mon spill it,” Ash said, only a little quieter, “What was it like?”

“It was like just a few innocent messages and then we agreed to go for drinks tonight.”

“Well, I think you’ve missed the point of Grindr. You’re supposed to use it to hook up right away… not tomorrow or the day after.”

“Hey,” Dean barked, “I do things how I wanna do them. And I was tired last night. I goddamn toldja I was outta town all weekend.”

“So that wasn’t just code for busy getting laid?”

“I wish,” laughed Dean.

“So what do you know about this guy you’re gonna be fuckin' tonight?”

“His name is Benny.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

 

 

 

 

Cas was walking towards the red tower again. He paid no attention to the names of streets, only the tower. As he walked, his mind replayed this morning’s kill again and again. This was the first time he’d ever attempted a kill so out in the open. It was also the first time he’d had something unexpected happen. It had never even occurred to him that a Dark might have a young one. But it made sense in retrospect. Now that he thought about it, it seemed likely that sooner or later he’d run into a Dark that was actually still a child. His mind raced with questions about how he should be handling himself. There was no rule book to tell him what was right and what was wrong. Somewhere deep inside he suspected that he was used to that. Much like his inner workings had seemed to know that it was a bad idea to let the letters CAS be input into a computer, he suspected that his forgotten life had revolved around very strict rules and procedures. That was probably why he liked to spend so much time planning things and why he tended to methodical with how he completed his tasks.

Shortly after his first kill he’d started taking currency from the dead. This action made sense to him. He needed currency to live. Most people were paid for doing a job.

That’s what the people at the shelter had wanted of him… they wanted him to find a job. But how could he work a job if he had to hunt? Was he supposed to stand behind a counter and get food for people all day to earn his money and just let the Darks continue to spread their evil scourge over the world? Should he allow murderers and rapists to continue to defile innocents just so he could earn his bed at the shelter? No. He had a job. It just didn’t pay him any currency. At least it hadn’t before. Now, he’d thought things through and given himself permission to take currency from the Darks he’d slain. It took only a few seconds to empty their pockets or bags and it helped him tremendously to be able to buy things.

The last of his money was gone now, though. If it hadn’t been for his discovery of a baby at the sight of his murder, the few moments he’d wasted making his decisions would’ve been useful for ransacking her pockets and her cart for currency. Now he’d just have to survive without money until he killed again.

His thoughts turned to planning his day as he continued walking towards the tower. He decided that his only objective for today would be to check back on his previous kills. So, he walked all the way to the red tower and then passed it. He took his usual path down Linwood to The Paseo. From there it was about 30 blocks south to get where he needed to be and it took a long time. When he arrived, he was relieved. The evidence that she had been found was everywhere. Bright yellow tape printed with black letters proclaiming “Police line do not cross” was stretched across the threshold to her dwelling. There were people milling around nearby with heavy equipment and Cas paid little attention to the commotion as he passed.

With any luck, his return to the north end of town by the river would find similar tape stretched over the cement path there too. That would mean both of his kills had been found and were no longer his responsibility. Sadly, he knew that the presence of authority figures near his new favorite sleeping spot would rule it out. If his other kill had indeed been found today, he’d likely be fighting for a spot in “the alley” tonight.

.


	3. Out and Proud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta this chapter... mistakes are mine ;)

When Dean got off work that night, Ash was looking up a part for a customer. Passing his friend on the way out, Dean flashed him a wink and smile that said, “That’s right… I’m gettin some tonight.”

He’d been growing more and more anticipatory all day and he wasted no time in getting home to clean up. He never parked out front, always pulling his beloved baby into the garage where it would be safe, even if he was only stopping in for a minute. Dean’s place is near E 33rd and Benton, just a few blocks over from Prospect which has a rep for trouble.  In this location, he’s close to the on ramp, close to Singer’s Auto, close to the Jazz district and to the supermarket. But he’s also in an area with a lot of shootings, drug busts and hookers. It’s not a safe neighborhood.

The nearby Jazz district is where he headed once he was showered and changed. Parking in the lot across from Benny’s Big Easy, Dean locked up his baby and headed towards the entrance. This wasn’t a place he’d been before, but he’d heard of it… it was just as well known as The Blue Room across the street. Both had a reputation for damn decent live music. Benny’s Big Easy was a creole place known for its Gumbo.

He’d been swallowed up in the atmosphere the moment he stepped through the door. The front wall was entirely made of windows. From outside, the window wall was tinted to blackness. It kept the people on the street from being able to see inside without cupping their hands to the glass. But from the inside, one could sit at a table and ‘people watch’ those passing on the street outside.

Down the street was the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum and along this beautifully maintained street were other establishments worthy of exploration as well. Despite the run down warehouse district that surrounded this urban oasis, the revitalization efforts of these few streets were bringing tourists and locals alike into this questionable part of town… and their dollars with them.

As he settled at a table, he picked up a menu. Beneath the grinning cartoon crocodile, were dishes that perked his interest. But when the waitress appeared, he ordered only a draft. Benny had said they could meet here around six and Dean checked his phone to be sure he had his Grindr app up. It was ten til six. The place was filling fast and Dean was glad he’d come when he had so they’d have a table.

The crowd here was boisterous and as he sipped his drink he had fun watching, though he kept one eye on the door constantly. His mind would not let him forget that he was about to have his first sexual experience with a man. He had a hunch he was going to like this guy, even if his picture ended up being better than the real thing. After all, the guy hadn’t been put out when Dean had replied his initial pick up line with, “I have to warn you, I just came out and I might be jumpy.” Rather, he’d suggested they just meet for a drink and just see what happens. It had been so easy to say yes knowing that the guy was willing to chance blue balls and meet Dean when he could’ve easily moved on to a more ‘sure thing.’

Dean had worked his way through half a beer when he felt a hand fall to his shoulder. Turning, he was greeted by the warm smile of his new friend Benny. It was a bit strange – just for a beat – as Dean’s eyes adjusted to the three dimensional version of the profile picture he’d glanced at dozens of times today.

“Benny,” he smiled, moving to stand.

“Nah, brotha, sit,” the man had encouraged, stepping around the table and pulling a chair up next to him. “Been waitin long?”

“Nope,” replied Dean as he stammered for something to say. He as a little taken by surprise. He’d been certain he’d kept a good eye on the door but he’d never seen the man enter. On top of that, his accent was unexpected. “Never saw you come in,” he wound up saying, hating himself for admitting out loud that he’d been watching the door.

“That’s cause I came from the kitchen,” Benny smiled.

Suddenly there was a click for Dean. Benny. Benny’s Big Easy. Benny with a Cajun accent. This was Benny’s place. Benny was the owner of this bar.

“This your place?” he asked, already knowing.

“Sho is,” the man smiled. Dean liked the smile. It was a good smile. Warm. Friendly.

“I like it,” he said, suddenly feeling a bit like a girl as he sat next to this big ox of a man.

“M’glad,” replied Benny.

Dean had to lean in a bit to hear the guy over the din, and the action of it made him feel even more like the girl. This was Benny’s place and knowing that was leaving him a bit off kilter. Their income brackets were likely very different. Benny probably wasted more cash in a month than Dean paid in rent for his house. He watch Benny’s eyes leave his for the first time since he’d sat down. But to Dean’s surprise, they didn’t objectively rove over Dean’s body like the bears in the gay club did. They dipped down to the menu Dean was holding.

“You been lookin’ that over?”

Dean nodded, watching Benny’s eyes move from the menu back up to his face. “Well then, brotha, what’s your poison?”

“It’s your place man, what should I try?”

“We’re known for Gumbo,” he said firmly, “But the stuffed catfish gets good reviews.”

“What do you eat?” Dean asked, curious.

“Etouffee,” Benny answered with a nod. “Shrimp and Crawfish. Try it?”

“Sure, man,” said Dean as he rearranged his legs and sat forward, working to remember that he wasn’t the girl here just because Benny was bigger. No one was a girl. Girls were in the rear view mirror.

“What’s the difference?” he asked Benny, “between Gumbo and etouffee and jambalaya?”

“Well, the gumbo’s a soup with the rice separate. Etoufee is a sauce served over rice and jambalaya has the rice simmered together.”

“I’ve always wondered.”

“Hard tellin’ when most places don’t cook it right anyway.”

Dean nodded, waiting for Benny to speak again. But he didn’t. He gestured to the server and ordered their food, offering Dean another drink as he did.

“You don’t seem so jumpy,” observed Benny, leaning back in his seat.

“M’sweatin bullets,” laughed Dean – opting to call a spade a spade.

“I told ya I’d be gentle,” teased Benny with a grin.

“Who’s that?” Dean asked, indicating the band that had taken the stage and was warming up.

“Millage Gilbert. They always play Thursday nights, ya just got lucky that he happened to be here tonight.”

“So what’s it like?”

“Sex with a man?” Benny prompted with a wickedly flirtatious smile.

“No,” chuckled Dean, suddenly flustered again, “running a place like this. And, yeah. The sex. That too.”

“It’s rough on my back,” Benny answered, meeting Dean’s eye and still grinning a little.

“Which?”

“Both.”

As both men laughed loud and long, Dean felt the last of his nerves slip away into the crowd. He leaned in closer to hear over the music and the two began to really talk. They answered each other’s questions… the normal ones that everyone asks about life and family.

Benny explained that he’d moved from Louisiana to Missouri with his wife Andrea. They’d started this restaurant together. When they’d divorced it wasn’t yet profitable so she’d been fine with him buying out her share on the cheap. Now, he was the sole owner and was entertaining the notion of selling to an interested corporation. The deal would put him in an even better situation financially and allow him to move ‘back home’ with his family. He’d explained that while he didn’t hate it here, there simply wasn’t anything to make him want to stay. The move had been her idea, not his and without her it just didn’t make sense to stay here.

“So when did you switch teams?” Dean asked, now completely comfortable in the man’s presence.

“I havn’t switched anything. I’m not really one of those that thinks we all need to choose up sides like we’re gonna play kickball.”

Dean had nodded, drawn in deeper by the man’s obvious comfort with his choices and his willingness to live as he chose without feeling obligated to label himself or limit himself. It was refreshing after having lived the way he had for so long. Dean hadn’t realized how tightly wound up he’d been until he’d talked to this guy.

He relaxed further as his buzz started to settle in. They’d switched to Bourbon when they’d ordered food and were working on their second round of that as they waited patiently for their order. Dean sipped his drink and let Benny unravel him like a ball of twine. The man’s unguarded way of talking just pulled information from Dean in a way that not many people did. He ended up telling all about growing up in Lawrence, Kansas. It was a sleepy bedroom community to Kansas City and was so swallowed up now that it felt more like a long drive to the suburbs than to another city.

Lots of people, like Cole, knew Dean well but still didn’t know the things he found himself telling Benny over the rolling baseline from the stage.  He told about his mother’s death when he wasn’t even five years old. He explained how the official story was a fire but his father had put together clues showing inconsistencies with that theory. He told of his father’s obsession with justice which had, over the years, evolved into a much less healthy quest for revenge. It wasn’t easy keeping the tremors from his voice as he detailed his experience of being yanked out of school while his brother was still in his tender years. Their lives on the road as his father followed a cold trail of clues around the country had been deprived of any semblance of normalcy. He explained that eventually, his father’s friend who’d later been dubbed ‘Uncle Bobby,’ had interceded with the boys… pulling them off the road and into his home.

Dean went on to describe the way he’d always tried to fill his father’s shoes where Sam was concerned. He told of the many challenges he’d faced and how he felt like a failure. He said nothing of false names, felony’s or Sam’s visions. Those things weren’t for public consumption. But he shared some things that were very personal to him regarding his relationship with his brother, his father and his ‘uncle’. Benny was a very calming presence and had a very ‘matter of fact’ way of thinking. He managed to make Dean feel good about unloading and the two were just ready for another round when the food finally came.

Normally, he’d be bent out of shape if it took an hour to get the food he’d ordered. But with Benny’s company the time seemed inconsequential. They continued talking openly as they ate.

“This is amazing,” hummed Dean as he sank into his dish. It had just the right amount of spicy heat… enough to noticeably clear his sinus but not enough to overpower the flavor. The sweet rolls it was served with were a nice contrast too. Dean watched Benny’s face split into a satisfied smile. It was obvious that he was happy to see his date enjoying his favorite dish.

“My great-great grandmother’s recipe,” he said softly, “I haven’t changed a thing.”

It wasn’t strange that Dean had begun to think of this as a date, but it was clearly a far cry from the original hook-up they’d both sought out on Grindr.

“Do you use it much?” Dean asked, referring to Grindr.

“Yeah, I do. But not like this,” he answered, gesturing to the atmosphere around them.

“You mean you don’t bring them all here?”

“Nope.”

“Where do you bring them?”

“Well, usually I’ll just give them my address or vice versa.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty simple… like scratchin an itch.”

As they finished eating, Dean nodding along as Benny talked to him about some of his funnier experiences he’d had with the easy hook-ups he procured. Dean detailed some of his laughable interactions when he’d first tried gay bars, both of them sharing side-splitting with laughter at each other’s stories.

While they’d been talking, the dinner hour had ended. The place now seeming more like a bar than a restaurant. Some couples were up dancing as Millage Gilbert soaked the room with a smooth rendition of ‘Last Two Dollars.’

Dean loved the atmosphere here. He hadn’t noticed his eyes roving around the room until they’d come all the way back around to land on Benny again. Something had changed now. He could feel it, the shift in mood. Benny’s eyes were heavy on him and he found himself understanding, without words, what Benny was asking. He nodded solemnly to the man and then tossed back the last of his drink. By the time his empty glass hit the table, Benny was on his feet. They slid in their chairs and headed for the door. As they cut through the crowd, Dean asked, “Don’t we need to settle up?”

“My house, brotha,” was all the man said.

It made sense. Why would the waitress bring him a bill for their food and drinks if Benny owned the whole place? Stepping outside into the warm summer night, Dean looked over at his companion.

“My place?” Benny offered.

Dean nodded agreement but then said, “I can’t leave my Baby here.”

“Where you parked?”

Dean gestured to the lot across the street.

Benny nodded and dropped a heavy arm across Dean’s shoulders as they started walking. “Me too,” he said in his smooth southern drawl, “Follow me?”

“Sure man, where we headed?”

“Rivermarket area,” answered Benny, “Got a space on 5th street. Message me if you lose me.”

“How bout you give me your number?” Dean said, leaning in and realizing a moment too late how flirtatious he was being. “Then I could just text you,” he tacked on. He hated how it felt to look up at this man, superior in size and strength. He couldn’t settle on why that feeling was pushing in on him again, the one from earlier when he’d felt like he was playing the role of the girl. Benny had so easily dispelled it in the restaurant. But here, in the dark, in the open air, it was rearing its ugly head again and Dean had no idea how to feel about it.

Benny didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil as he took Dean’s phone from him and punched his number into it. Dean stood still, waiting, and watched as Benny hit the call button and caused his own phone to ring. “Now I’ve got yours too,” he said with wink.

Damn. Dean had never had a man wink at him before. He threw winks out to people all the time… but it was something else to be on the receiving end of the gesture. He found his heart fluttering a little in his chest and simply couldn’t hold back his answering smile.

They parted when he reached Baby. His eyes didn’t miss the way Benny’s skimmed over his sweet ride. The man didn’t comment, though. He kept walking and Dean turned his attention to unlocking his door and climbing in.

Once his engine was rumbling, he backed out of his space and waited. He was surprised to see Benny pull out in front of him in an old Ford F150. Following the man’s tail lights, Dean noticed the bright lighting of the tourist rich streets taper off and be replaced by the dark shells of old brick factories and metal warehouses, most of which were vacant. The majority of buildings around here existed in various states of neglect, with an astonishing number for sale. The neighborhoods beyond the well-lit areas were rough and most people would be reluctant to walk them at night. His headlights had briefly lit up a few bodies, just glimpses in passing. A few random groups of people, a few intimidating men standing around on corners or at doorways, a few scantily clad hoes. Soon they were accelerating on the ramp and merging onto the traffic on I70. They weren’t on it for long, exiting near the river and cutting back through an eclectic mixture of residential and commercial. They parked on the street, a few spaces apart, and Dean locked up his baby before walking towards the place where he’d seen Benny parallel parking.

“Been around here much?” Benny asked conversationally as they crossed the street together.

“Nope. Pretty much stay on my own side of the tracks,” he’d replied, acknowledging out loud for the first time that the two of them were of different socioeconomic backgrounds. They were headed for a large steel stair case on the end of a set of brick buildings that ran the length of the street. Benny reached it first, laying a hand on it and gesturing Dean ahead of him. Dean started up the stairs, his boots clanking as he went, and soon Benny was beside him. The man held the door for him when they reached it and Dean nodded thanks as he walked through it. Inside was a long hall, the entire left side lined with doors.

The second door was Benny’s. Dean, again, walked through the door when it was held for him and as he did he was seized by a startling revelation. He wished he’d thought of it before now. It would’ve been easier to have this conversation while they were getting to know one another over food and drinks. It was impossible, however, to ignore the elephant in the room now that he could see it.

There was now a connection for Dean as to why he kept feeling a girl on this date. It was subtle but it was there. It was evident in the way he’d been not paid for anything, the way doors had been held open for him, the way Benny had stopped at the stairs an ushered him to go first. There had been little ques all evening and his subconscious had picked up on them even if Dean himself had not. Now, here he was, having come to this man’s home for one reason only. And his stomach revolted as he realized the likely scenario. How could he not have thought of it before now? Benny towered over him… was the man going to get down on all fours for Dean to fuck him? Hell no. Benny was the top. He’d been the top all evening and Dean had, by either error or omission, agreed to be the bottom. He had to do something quick.

“Benny,” he said humbly as the door clicked shut, “I think this might’ve been a mistake.”

“Aw, c’mon brotha,” the man smiled as he lumbered forward and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “Don’t go gettin all nervous now. Aint gonna be no thang unless you want it. Just sit down and have a beer with me, huh? See where it goes?”

Dean nodded. It was a reasonable request. He watched Benny’s wide back and broad shoulders as he bent into his fridge and pulled out two beers. That was a lot of man. There’s no way the guy didn’t have a dick the size of beer can. No way. Not gonna happen. His ass cheeks clenched involuntarily as he took the bottle that was offered to him.

“Ya look like ya seen a damn ghost,” winked his friend as he walked past and settled on the couch.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he confessed. “I just had a good time and I had it in my head that I was gonna get some. But now that I’m here… Benny, man… you’re awesome. But I don’t think I can do it the way you’re gonna wanna do it.”

It was impossible to hold back as he watched Benny burst into laughter and spew beer into his own lap. When belly laughs died down to chuckles, Benny patted the sofa next to him. It was a request to sit down and Dean had no reason not to. He didn’t want to make show of sitting far away, but he didn’t want to be too close either. Benny waited until Dean was settled before speaking again. And when he did, he laid his heavy hand on Dean’s thigh.

“How do ya suppose I wanna do it then?”

Dean simply couldn’t look at Benny as he answered, “From the top.” He smiled then, feeling the couch jiggle under him as Benny laughed silently but heartily.

“And you don’t want my cock?”

Dean shivered hearing the c-word. It was a full-body shiver that snaked up his spine and crackled all the way to his scalp, tiny invisible fingers tickling their way over the crown of his head.

He didn’t answer right away. It was a tough question to answer honestly. Did he want the man’s cock? Fuck yeah he did. He wanted to see it; was dying to see it. He wanted to touch it and hold it and lick it and suck on it. He wanted to be naked and feel skin on skin. He wanted thick, hairy legs under his finger tips and Benny’s rough calloused hands touching his body. Yeah. He wanted the cock. He just didn’t want it in his asshole. The moment had grown long with Benny waiting for a reply so Dean settled on answering with less tact than honesty.

“I do man, I just can’t let you put it in me.”

“Okay,” Benny answered softly as he moved to drape his arm around Dean’s shoulders again.

“I’m serious,” insisted Dean, “That’s a deal breaker. I shoulda told ya before… before we even left.”

“S’fine,” whispered Benny, tightening his arm around Dean’s shoulders and bringing thumb to rest on Dean’s chin.

He had no choice but to let Benny turn his face to him, but he hated it. Hated the gesture, even though it was meant with only kindness. Hated not being the bigger person on the couch. Perhaps it was petty… but his entire life, Dean had never even kissed someone who wasn’t several inches shorter and at least fifty pounds lighter.

When he’d imagined himself in bed with a man, he’d pictured someone his own build. It was so completely foreign like this… playing the role of the least masculine person in the room. And to top it all off, he was now a prude too. He felt Benny release his chin and pull away from him.

Fuck. He was blowing it! But, sadly, his brain was jumping back and forth from ‘yes’ to ‘no’ so fast it was making his head spin. He wanted it. He didn’t. He wanted it. He didn’t. His flesh was screaming at him and he clenched his beer bottle tightly and stared at it, having nothing else to focus on.

“Dean,” said Benny firmly, snapping his attention from the bottle over to crystalline blue eyes, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

 

 

 

Cas ambled along slowly, not in any particular hurry. He was internally debating between another night under “the overpass” or one spent in “the alley.” It was frustrating to have to worry about where to sleep night after night and Cas found himself wishing again that he could have his dwelling rather than focusing on the issue of where to sleep.

He was lost in his own thoughts when the sound of breaking glass interrupted. He turned towards the noise which had come from a small alley between two buildings he’d just passed. Taking a few steps, he found himself peering down the alley into the dark. A few yards into shadow was the form of a small female. She had something in her hand and her arm was stretched out in front of her. The shadows moved and Cas’ eyes adjusted to find two men circling her like wild dogs… tentative, appraising… looking for a weakness at which to strike.

The female was holding what appeared to be a weapon, but as he stepped closer, Cas could see that it was just a bottle; a broken one. She was on guard, this scrappy little female, holding these encroaching mongrels at bay with nothing but trash she’d found at her feet. His heart went out to her. He could practically smell her fear.

It was too dark to tell if these men were Darks or not. After all, not all Darks committed crimes like this… and not all crimes like this were committed by Darks. But he stepped forward anyway, aligning himself with the female in posture and whispering, “You take the one on the left and I’ll take the one on the right.”

He barely perceived her nod, it was so slight. She didn’t speak, but she did orient her body in the direction he’d told her.

“Aw fuck it,” barked one of the men, “she ain’t even worth it.”

The other appeared to agree, stepping backwards in the direction from which Cas had just come. Neither he nor the woman moved a muscle until both men were out of sight.  Even then, Cas didn’t let his guard down. He moved to the end of the alley and looked out onto the sidewalk where he could see the two offenders moving away. They were almost to the next intersection and weren’t looking back.

Turning to the girl he said, “I don’t think they’ll be back.”

She gave him nothing but a curt nod and a gruff, “Thanks.”

He nodded and turned to go.

“Wait,” she said to his back, “Where are you going?”

“I have to find a place to sleep for the night. I require rest.”

She seemed apprehensive and took a step towards him.

“I have a place,” she said quietly, “If you want.”

He looked at her, wondering if he’d made another friend. “Where?” he asked.

“Back here,” she said with a tilt of her head. She turned to walk deeper into the alley and he followed her. He could tell that she didn’t fully trust him because she hadn’t dropped the makeshift weapon she’d been touting. In sympathy for her fear rather than actual reverence for her crude defenses, he stayed several paces behind her as they walked. When they reached the far end of the alley, she dipped to the left and he moved in closer, afraid of losing track of her in the inky darkness.

“Here,” she whispered.

He followed the sound of her voice, clunking his head on solid metal. “Down here,” she said softly. He put his hand to his forehead and squinted as he ducked low to crawl under the platform he’d struck. His foot hit the edge of something and he buckled his weight but it was too late, he found himself tumbling face first.

To his surprise, he bounced a little when he landed. The surface was strange, springy and almost soft. He perched for a moment, unmoving and letting his eyes adjust to the deeper darkness. Just then, he was stunned by a bright light.

“There,” said his friend.

The light was emanating from the palm of her hand. Looking at it now, he could see that it was a talking device. The light from its glow lit up their small space. He could now distinguish that they were under a metal staircase that wound its way down the back of the cinderblock building. The platform between each flight of stairs rose up one on top of the other, right in this spot. They were perched under the bottom platform which had been crudely walled off with cardboard, tape and twine. The only opening was the one they’d just passed through. He tucked his legs in so that he fit into the space with her.

She handed him the device and while he held it reverently for her, she reached behind herself and pulled a piece of cardboard out, laying it over the opening and then dropping a large grey block on the flap of it to secure it in place. Cas couldn’t help but smile for her. She was incredible.

“What?” she asked as she took her device back from him.

“You’re amazing,” he said to her, “I’ve been looking for a place to sleep every night. But you, you’ve built yourself one!”

“You’re impressed by this?” she said incredulously, “Not many guys would be.”

“Well, I’m not impressed by the structure itself. It will likely fall apart when it rains. But I’m impressed by your ingenuity.”

“Show’s what you know,” she laughed, digging behind herself again and producing a folded up piece of plastic, “I have a tarp for when it rains.”

“I’m Cas.”

“I’m Tessa.”

“How long has this been your dwelling Tessa?”

“Couple weeks now. The guy that owns the bar,” she gestured to the building over her shoulder, “He lets me crash here. Gives me food sometimes too… like if he orders pizza and has some left over or whatever.”

“It’s nice that you have a friend who lets you make your dwelling here. And it’s nice of you to share your space with me.”

“Hey, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be getting raped right now.”

“I think you stood a good chance,” he told her, “You’re clearly much smarter than they were.”

Her light flicked out and they were plunged into darkness. It only lasted a moment and then she restored it.

“Look,” she said softly, “I can’t keep the light on long. You may as well get comfy so I can turn it off.”

He nodded and began to pull off his trench coat, rolling it up into a pillow as was his custom. Hope bubbled up in his chest as he asked her, “Do you think it’s safe to take off my shoes here?”

“Well, they’re not my size. So, yeah.”

Her smile was lovely, as were her eyes.

“What is this?” Cas asked, pointing to the cushioned surface they were sitting on.

“It’s a mattress… like… from a bed?”

“A mattress,” repeated Cas.

“You’ve slept in a bed before, right?”

“Not that I recall,” he answered her, “but then, I don’t recall much.”

She seemed to take his answer at face value and asked no further questions as she watched him remove his shoes and socks.

He knew he smelled, it was obvious in this small space with limited air flow. She, however, smelled lovely and he felt sorry for her having to accommodate his odor for the duration of the night.

“I’m very sorry that my scent is strong. I’ve been unable to properly clean myself for several days.”

“It’s okay,” she said, “if you want, I’ll show you the shelter tomorrow. It sucks there, but you’ll get a shower and a bed and a meal.”

“I’ve been there,” he confided in her, “but it didn’t work.”

“Okay,” she said. Again, taking him at face value.

He liked this young girl very much. As he curled over on his side he asked her, “Can we be friends, Tessa?”

“Yes, Cas,” she answered as she laid down nearby. The light winked out again and this time, their little dwelling stayed dark. He was just teetering on the edge of sleep when her gurgling stomach woke him back up. When he opened his eyes again, he found them a lot more adjusted to the deep darkness. He could make out her shape well enough to see that her eyes were open.

“Are you hungry Tessa?”

“Very.”

“Here,” he said, digging into his coat/pillow and producing his last pack of pocket crackers.

“Thank you,” she said as she took them gently from his hand, “Thank you Cas.”

 

 

 

“Skin a cat?” echoed Dean.

“Yeah, brotha, don’t sweat it,” Benny said, leaning back in his seat.

“What would you suggest?” asked Dean, throat drying as he choked the words out.

“I’m just gonna sit here, Dean. You do whatever you want to.”

Dean smiled, loving how Benny wasn’t looking at him, but rather at the television. He watched as Benny leaned over and grabbed a remote control from the end table and flicked on the TV.

“Just holler if ya see somethin you like,” Benny said calmly as he began channel surfing.

“I see something I like,” Dean whispered softly, leaning in on Benny while still clutching his beer bottle. He pressed his lips to the corner of his friend’s mouth, lingering there for a moment and hoping that his flirtation had been well received. He was elated to feel the scruff of Benny’s beard as the man turned into his kiss and deepened it.

At the first bump of Benny’s soft, wet tongue to Dean’s; his body took off like a racehorse from a starting gate. His heart galloped and he sucked in heavy breaths as he reoriented his limbs. His body turned toward the tree trunk of a man on the couch next to him, his knees scrambled to get under him and propel him closer.

Against Dean’s chest, he felt Benny chuckle. He couldn’t help his own responding laughter as he wrapped his arms around Benny’s neck and let himself be guided into the man’s lap. Fuck. Here he was… the girl again. Arms at neck? Girly. Sitting in a man’s lap? Girly. The breathy moans that slipped out when he felt Benny’s dick hardening under him? Girly.

He tried to tell himself that he didn’t like this position. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie to himself. It felt great. Benny was a man and Dean had left a lot of hot, wet, prepubescent messes in between his sheets dreaming of exactly this.

Beneath him, Benny’s cock had filled and felt like a beer bottle under Dean’s ass cheeks. He hated himself a little for the way his hips worked figure eights against his will. Finally, at long last, he felt his cheeks spread apart and sandwich Benny’s giant dick between them through their pants.

It only got worse from there. First his bottle was lifted from his hand. Then, his shirt was pulled off over his head. Before long, he was staring at Benny’s chest, milky white and lightly freckled. He glanced up at his friends face and got a smile of encouragement. Gingerly, he reached out and laid his hands on the man’s pecs. They were thick and meaty, not jiggly like tits. They were amazing. He circled his fingers around the dusky buds of nipples and pinched gently, loving the way the larger man’s stomach twitched in response.

There were hands on him too… big ones. Rough ones. No dainty little fingers, no nail polish. Big bear claws that gripped his hips firmly and then slid around to his ass. They were writhing together now, Benny working his hips forward and back so that his hard package was thrust upward again and again. Dean couldn’t wait another moment. He had to see it. He just had to. He scuttled backwards off the couch and went to his knees on the plush area rug.

He liked his lips in anticipation as he watched Benny’s huge muscular legs spread for him and didn’t think twice about shoving forward into the space between them. With the eager hands of a twenty two year old virgin, he dove into the task of unbuckling Benny’s belt and tugging it loose. With nothing between him and his prize but a zipper, he held his breath expectantly and tugged it down. Benny’s giant hands were there to assist, pulling himself out for Dean.

It was the most incredible sight he’d ever seen… it was huge… much larger than Dean’s own. But that was to be expected, he assumed. After all, Benny’s entire frame was much larger then Dean’s. It was enticing, this magnificent specimen just towing there over Benny’s thick fingers. Dean couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He had to touch it. Benny pulled his own hands away as Dean’s settled in. In his peripheral vision, Dean saw the man’s head drop to the back of the couch in complete and total relaxation and submission. Benny’s hands were tucked behind his neck, leaving Dean plenty of space to play. His eager hands devoured that cock. It felt so erotic to finally hold one and it was every bit as rousing as he’d imagined.

It was weighty in his hands, rock hard on the inside, smooth and soft on the outside. As he ran his fingers and palms over it in exploration the scent wafted up to his nostrils and teased him. The pungent, musky smell was like a shot to his groin and his dick swelled ever further in the tight confines of his jeans. He hated to let go of Benny’s impressive shaft even for a moment. But it was necessary, crucial. He absolutely had to free his own member. He tore at his own jeans and heard Benny chuckle from above – clearly enjoying Dean’s enthusiasm.

It was freeing to just let himself go… to be eager and unashamed. He could have wept for how good it felt to finally bring his dick out into the cool air of the room. He stroked it a few times before he let it go, returning his attention to the enormous meaty cock being offered to him. His mouth flooded with saliva as he bent forward and wrapped his lips tightly around the tip. His own voice was chanting gleefully inside his head that this was a porn star quality dick that he’d been given to play with.

He smiled as he took it in, opening wider and taking it further, stopping every inch or so to tongue it and spread his sloppy spit over it. Benny was starting to moan too… it was so fucking hot.

Dean had been getting head all his life but he doubted any woman had ever enjoyed his cock the way he was enjoying Benny’s. His jaw was starting to ache from it but still, he wanted more. As if on cue, Benny’s thick fingers tangled into his hair from above and began guiding him. His logical brain was separating from his body to declare indignity again at being reduced the position of a woman, on his knees between thick hairy legs, head being shoved down progressively rougher and rougher. But for the love all that’s holy, he couldn’t find the will to give a shit.

Gasping for air, thrumming with pleasure, overrun with desire and leaking from his own neglected tip he skootched his knees together and got halfway to his feet. From this position he managed to shuck his pants the rest of the way off and steer clear of Benny as he wiggled out of his too.

Now, completely naked, Dean waited and watched as Benny got to his feet. They stood for a moment, looking at each other with their chests heaving before Benny stepped in and wrapped his arms around Dean’s middle. With powerful arms, Benny hefted Dean off his feet and Dean didn’t know what was to happen next, he just hung there for a moment. His gut was telling him to lift his legs and wrap them around Benny’s waist. But his inner battle with all things effeminate had locked his legs ramrod straight.

“Okay,” laughed Benny in good humor, “have it your way and just walk your fine ass to the bedroom.”

Dean had to chuckle at Benny’s long suffering sigh.

“Do other guys let you just pick em up and carry them around?” he asked as he followed his friend from the living room.

“Brotha, most of em are thrilled to be with a man that _can_ pick them up.”

Dean looked down at his feet then, a little ashamed. He’d given exactly zero thought to what Benny liked or wanted to do. He’d never even considered that perhaps the things he was ashamed to do… were the things that Benny really liked to do.

As they walked quietly through a darkened doorway, Dean stopped, one foot in and one foot out. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Nothing to apologize for, my friend. It was my first time once too.”

Dean wanted to hug the man, he was so grateful for his understanding. When he did step into Benny’s room, he liked the smell of it right away. It was a perfect combination of manly scents and it reminded Dean of his own room, but much bigger and with higher quality bedding.

When he followed Benny down onto the mattress, he found his body more willing to move freely. In the living room there were lights on and they’d been in a seated position, it had been harder to relax. But in here, where the lights were out and the bed was soft and both of them were laying down together, it was so much easier to tangle his limbs together with Benny and loose himself in the erotic sounds and sensations. He stretched and flexed as they spread out and he loved feeling how his naked skin rubbed with Benny’s all over. Benny’s back and shoulders were firm and smooth, perfect for running his fingers and tongue around. Their legs were both strong and thick and hairy and it was so very sensual to move about and occasionally feel Benny’s member flop against his thigh or roll along his belly or stiffen against his palm.

They lingered there for quite a while, just exploring one another and letting their faces pull together again and again for kisses. Dean loved being rolled by strong arms and wondered why it was so hard to get his body to accept the feeling. He didn’t want to dwell on it now, but he tucked the sentiment away for study later, when play time was over.

Dean was stunned when Benny slid down under the covers and took him into his mouth. He found himself cursing aloud and gripping the sheets as the roaring pleasure surged over his body. It was such an incredible thing to be sucked down by someone so big and strong. He knew his dick must seem small to his friend, but it didn’t seem to matter. Benny was enthusiastic and talented and Dean was thrusting his hips forward rhythmically in no time.

Strong hands secured him by the ass cheeks as he was sucked within an inch of blowing up.

“Ah,” he cried out in the dark, “Be-Be-Ben-neeee”

And then, Benny’s lips were back on Dean’s, swallowing his moans as their bodies rocked together. The man’s big hand then closed around Dean’s heavy, wet shaft and jacked it for him. It was incredible to feel those strong hands clench down, now circling both of their members, and o stroking them together.

He’d seen this in porn a million times but there was something different about it in real life. To feel another fleshy member pressed against his own and squeezed had curled his stomach in the most pleasurable way. He found himself thrusting hips with Benny and they fell into a rhythm together, intermittently kissing and licking and sucking marks into each other’s necks.

Unable to hold back, Dean fumbled his own hand down with Benny’s and worked to be helpful as his pleasure roared downward. He was gasping when he came, his mouth locked open against the bigger man’s chest.

It had taken quite a while to come down from his frenzy but once he’d come, his tired member nestled into the soft spot along Benny’s hip bone. He didn’t even try to untangle himself. But when their jizz started to get cold, he let Benny wipe him down and arrange them into a comfortable sleeping position.

“Do all your hook ups stay over like this?” muttered Dean as he began drifting off.

“C’mon brotha, we both know this is no hook-up.”

The next morning, he woke early to the smell of fantastic coffee.

“Mmmm” he moaned as he began to crave a cup.

“Yeah, there’s a coffee shop downstairs.  What time do you need to leave?”

“I wanted to go by six so I could stop at home for a shower before work.”

“Too bad you can’t shower here,” said Benny ruefully as he reached down under the covers and took Dean in hand.

“Yeah, too bad,” Dean nodded as Benny started to stroke his cock to life, “But I can live with this.”

Dean was strutting when he finally left Benny’s apartment. He had reason to, after all. He’d boldly gone where he’d never gone before. He’d been far too closeted as a straight man to even experiment with a guy. Even after he’d come out, he’d still not been ready. Weeks and weeks had gone by… the longest dry spell in Winchester history.

But, he just couldn’t seem to fit in anywhere. There were plenty of opportunities to rip the hetero Band-Aid off, but nothing had felt right to him. He’d had no niche to slide into. But one night with Benny had done wonders. He’d seen a glimmer of hope.

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” Benny had said. And Benny had been right. As he walked down the steps and across the street to where he’d parked his car, Dean’s mind was remembering the highlights of the last nine hours. The visuals of their skin on skin marathon was cut like a video montage in his head, set to the music of their whispers and moans.

Considering how many lurid fantasies he’d conjured over the years it was surprising how unique the experience had really been. And Dean was hopeful as Benny had kissed him good-bye, that this was something they’d be doing again.

 

 

 

Cas slept much later than he was used to. Without the discomforts of sleeping on a hard surface, he found his body relaxed and all too willing to let the day dawn without him. Both he and Tessa slept until a loud beeping noise pulled them to waking.

“It’s the truck,” she said, “Tuesdays the beer truck comes.”

Cas had no idea what she meant but he noticed she was sitting up and combing through her hair. He assumed that it was time to get up. It broke his heart to have to put his shoes back on.

“Got any more of those crackers?” she asked him.

“No, I’m sorry, those were the last.”

She nodded and said, “I have to go. I have to get to work.”

“Where do you work?” he asked her as they crawled out her little dwelling.

“It’s a staffing company. They send a bus to the shelter every morning. If you have an ID and you make the bus, you can work. Usually it’s just stuff like setting up chairs at the arena or cleaning up debris at construction sites. But they pay $8 an hour and you get your cash at the end of the day. I need the money,” she told him.

“I have work today too,” he told her, “But it’s a lot of walking and I doubt I will make as much as you.”

“Well,” she said as they walked up the alley together, “You can sleep here again tonight if you want.”

She looked different in the bright light of day than she had in the dark. Sadly, he noticed a small void behind her deep and intelligent eyes. And lower, down in her core, was the smallest swirl of grey mist. “Thank you,” he answered, “I will come when it’s dark, if that’s alright.”

“Yes,” she smiled as they parted ways on the sidewalk, “see you tonight.”

Cas was thrilled that he’d managed to make such a nice new friend. He felt boyant as he started walking towards Troost Street. It ran parallel to The Paseo and he’d not hunted there for over a week. He didn’t see a Dark there, despite walking from one end, clear to the other. But, at least he had a place to sleep now.

Cas’ luck seemed to be holding too. Though the dwelling he was sharing with Tessa was small and cramped with them both in there… she didn’t put him out. In fact, they grew to be great friends over the next few weeks. He shared anything he had with her, and she seemed to do the same. She never asked why he sometimes had blood on his clothes but would, instead, take them from him and go to the bathroom inside the bar to wash them out.

She’d always tell him it was no trouble… that blood was the easiest stain to get out. “That’s so strange, isn’t it?” she’d asked him.

He really hadn’t known what she meant, but he nodded anyway. Tessa was beautiful. She was like a flower in many ways. She was delicate to look at and soft to the touch. But much like flowers, she was far stronger than she looked. She stood against sun, wind and storm with grace and it broke his heart to watch the dark cloud inside her gather and grow with the passage of time.

Cas had always liked sitting at parks and watching kids play on the playground. It was so wonderful to witness their creativity, their enthusiasm and their ability live in a world of their own construction. They even shared each other’s imaginary worlds as they played together. As he watched them, Cas had often wondered about where Darks came from. Were they born that way? Or did they become Darks as they got older? He’d never seen a child that was a Dark, so he was starting to lean towards the opinion that Darks aren’t born evil. It seemed more likely that they grew to become evil for one reason or another.

Now, however, there was evidence right under his nose that Darks were, indeed, a product of their environment in some way. They weren’t born into this world as a ball of writhing tendrils of churning black smoke covered in the innocent looking skin of an adorable baby. They started normal and then slowly grew dark. Watching it happen to Tessa was all the proof he needed.

Often as they were engrossed in one of their talks, he’d consider telling her. He imagined himself gently explaining to her that there was a small essence of evil riding inside her skin and that it was growing. In his mind, he saw her face fill with concern as he explained that it would one day take her over completely. But if she did believe him, her next question would be, “How do I stop it?” And to that he had no answer. So to tell her was pointless. It would only worry her. So, though it hurt deeply, he kept quiet about it.

One day, Cas abandoned his hunting to go with her on an errand. She was owed some money, she said, and the men who were meant to pay it to her had been making excuses. So, she asked him to come along with her when she called on them.

It had been quite an experience. She’d said they were going to “a friend’s house” so it was odd that there were so many guns. As they entered, people were staring at them contemptuously. But by the time they’d left, Tessa had her money, Cas had his first gun, and there were two less Darks in the world.

Tessa had been slack jawed as she’d watched him kneel to empty the wallets of the dead men but he offered her no explanation for his actions and she demanded none.

That night, in celebration, Tessa had suggested they “get a room.”

It had been an excellent idea. They’d each had their own bed, up off the ground, and Cas had never slept so well. There was no noise intruding, no wind or rain. Just peace and quiet behind a door that locked. They took hot showers and watched television. They talked a lot.

When they’d finally left the room, Tessa had dragged him into a nearby storefront and given over a crisp hundred dollar bill in exchange for having a needle put to her arm for quite a while. Judging by the look on her face, she’d been miserable the entire time. But when it was over, she had a picture on her arm in permanent ink. It was sickle. Cas recognized the weapon, even though he’d never seen it before. Something inside his mind had simply supplied the name and definition for the item. It was odd.

He turned his head to read the letters around the sickle. They spelled out, “Fear the Reaper.”

“I don’t understand that reference,” Cas told her as they were leaving.

“The Grim Reaper,” she reiterated, “Collector of souls? Death?”

He looked at her, his delicate flower, and saw the set of her eyebrow change as she said to him, “I killed someone today.”

“I saw you,” he acknowledged, “but you had no choice. It wasn’t about money anymore… they weren’t going to let you leave. That was a very bad man and he wanted you. Wanted to keep you. It’s a good thing that he’s dead.”

“Yeah, and every body’s going to know it was me that did it. Especially with this on my arm. Guys’ will think twice before they take from me now.”

There was a double meaning behind her words when she said “take from me”. That happened often with Tessa. He was learning to understand the deeper meanings behind the things she said.

And, as they’d grown closer, she had explained much to him. She’d given him detailed information about talking devices and computers and even taught him how to use the cards in the wallets he took from his kills.

He was starting to really see how things worked. Why people did and said the things they did. He could see now why some people had dwellings and others did not. Why some people were kind and some were not. The world was making more sense with Tessa there to explain it to him. She was more of a friend to him than anyone had ever been and it was breaking his heart to watch the gathering dark in her.

It was also a little sad that he still ached inside, all this time still unable to find any relief. Even with such a wonderful companion to share his time with, it was always there just sitting inside his chest. The discomfort was mild enough that it could be ignored most of the time, so that’s what he did. He ignored the tenderness inside his ribcage and he ignored the blackness inside hers.

 

 

 

Dean found himself feeling pretty good about life these days. It had been weeks since Sam’s vision, with none others since. Life was falling back into a routine. He spent his days working at the shop, his nights with Benny or his friends and he spent his Sunday afternoons at Bobby and Ellen’s house. They’d always have a good meal and then relax around the house for the afternoon.

Lately the big topic of conversation had been the upcoming start of the new school year. Sam was eighteen now and a senior in high school. There were college visits to go to, applications to fill out and decisions to make. As confusing and frustrating as it all was, Dean found himself thrilled with the future Sam had laid out before him. His hard work had paid off and he was getting scholarship offers all over the place. He’d have his pick of schools. The world was his oyster.

Honestly, Dean was pretty happy all around these days. He still hadn’t heard from his father, but aside from that, all was well. He was out and proud as a gay man. He had a boyfriend that he loved spending time with and he was learning, albeit slowly, to accept himself for what he was… to let himself act how he wanted - instead of always acting like he thought he was supposed to.

Another surprise was how much he loved sucking dick. It really was his thing. He’d grown quite good at it. He’d also experimented with Benny using lots of toys and positions and figured out some of his favorites. They both liked the Fleshlight, probably because Dean was still uninterested in bottoming and so was Benny. His big ox of a man was never anything but supportive when it came to Dean’s self-exploration and discovery. But with neither man willing to take it and both wanting to give it, the issue of bottoming was brought up repeatedly.

One morning, as Dean was brushing his teeth in Benny’s bathroom, a phone vibrated on the counter. He glanced over at it out of habit, but ignored it when he saw it wasn’t his. When it buzzed a second time though, he grabbed it and turned it over. He spit out his toothpaste and yelled to Benny in the kitchen, “Hey, you’re getting calls from the restaurant!”

Benny was making breakfast and Dean, satisfied that he’d done his due diligence, was just setting the phone back down when something caught his attention… a vaguely familiar icon at the top of the screen. Without even thinking about the ramifications of his actions, Dean swiped his finger to pull down the menu. And that’s when the fragile bubble of his happiness burst.

The Grindr app was running on Benny’s phone. He tapped it to pull up messages and saw more than he needed to. He was still staring at the screen when Benny came charging in.

“What?” Benny asked, probably wondering why all the blood had drained from Dean’s face.

“Your phone…” he stammered, “you have messages.”

“I know, that’s why I’m burning French toast in the kitchen. So I can come get my messages from the restaurant,” he said huskily, teasing Dean with a soft smile.

“Not what I meant,” said Dean, trying to decide on the fly whether or not to address the issue.

“Well, what did you mean? Be quick, man, I’m burnin food out there.”

“You’re on Grindr.”

Yep. There it was. The shift in his lovers features. It betrayed the man far more than any icon on his phone could. No one spoke for a long moment. Then Benny turned back for the kitchen and Dean followed him.

“Why Benny?” he asked cautiously to the mans back, “I thought we had something going.”

“Well, man can’t live by bread alone,” he replied as used a spatula to turn French toast slices out onto a plate.

“The fuck, man!” barked Dean, “You’ve been hookin up behind my back?”

“Well,” shrugged Benny, “I’ve been in a hard way.”

“You FUCKIN sonnovabitch, all this time? Really?”

“Step back brotha,” replied Benny calmly and in a soft rolling cadence that Dean had once been fascinated by, “This aint one you wanna get into with me. We never promised each other to be exclusive. For all I know, you coulda been hookin up too.”

“That is some next level bullshit, Ben. I fuckin can’t belive this! All this time I’ve been suckin your dick and you’ve been shoving up some other dudes ass?”

“Colorful,” retorted Benny, “Look, friend, this is what I have to offer you. You’ve had fun so far, right? So take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it,” said Dean, looking around for his wallet and keys.

He tried to be calm as he moved through Benny’s loft and gathered the things of his that had found their way over here. A shirt hanging over the back of a chair, his necklace from the bureau. He was standing quietly in the doorway of the bedroom, taking one last look when he felt Benny slide up behind him. A thick arm snaked around his waist and a heavy head rested on his shoulder.

“End of the line?” he asked softly.

“End of the line.”

“Take care brotha,” said Benny, as Dean walked out the door.

 

 

 

Cas was watching the door. It was what Tessa had asked him to do. But when he heard gun shots, he turned and moved into the house with his weapon drawn. The front door had splintered when he’d kicked it open and the front room was dark, windows completely boarded over.

Immediately he dropped to his knees and kept his body low, knowing that if anyone came out shooting, their weapons would be aimed for chest height and go right over his head. He moved stealthily on his knees, with one hand on the floor and the other straight out in front of him with his finger resting near the trigger.

“Cas!” called Tessa from the next room. He took a deep breath and pushed toward the sound of her voice. It was smoky here and the closer he came to her, the worse his vision was. “Cas!” she called again. He slunk into the doorway and looked up to see his best friend in shooters stance, arms straight out in front her to support the weapon and her feet shoulder’s width apart, leaning slightly forward in preparation to shoulder the kick back.

There were two men standing in the room with her and three more down on the floor. There was blood everywhere, but he could plainly see that at least one body on the floor was still alive, grimacing in pain and clutching his knee to his chest. Cas looked back to the men standing. Both had their weapons trained on Tessa. He made eye contact with her and tipped his head only the slightest bit. To the rest of the room it wasn’t even a distinguishable movement. But between Tessa and Cas it meant, “You take the one on the left and I’ll take the one on the right.”

Cas exhaled as he pulled the trigger. His and Tessa’s simultaneous shots echoed through the quiet house. Cas stood in the doorway and deliberated whether or not to finish the half dead man on the floor. Tessa was moving. She was picking up bags from the floor and shoving things into them from the coffee table.

“Wallets,” she told him, jerking him from his thoughts. At her reminder, he leaned in and began opening the wallets of their victims, pulling the cash and cards and stuffing them into his pockets. As he worked, he was startled by another shot. An unplanned one. He looked up to see Tessa standing over the injured man, having just shot him. “Dead men tell no tales,” she said by way of explanation. Then, with practiced coolness she walked past him to the door.

As they stepped outside into the late afternoon sunshine, he was watching the pulsing mass of blackness inside her. It was sickening. She turned to him and smiled as they left the gore behind and said, “Fear the Reaper, baby!”

It pained him to have to do it, but he had no choice. As she turned forward again, heading to open the gate and step out onto the sidewalk, he squeezed off a round into the back of her head. She dropped like a stone into the unmown grass. He spared a moment, dropping to one knee beside her and placing a kiss to her temple. The first touch of his lips to her. “I’m sorry my friend,” he whispered as he left here there. There were sirens wailing in the distance and he knew he was out of time. He turned then, gabbing his bag and headed for the back yard of this crumbling house. He broke into a run, launching his body over the back fence and into the alley. He didn’t stop or slow as he crossed several streets and wound up back on Troost. Knowing he may have been spotted, he took precautions to change his appearance. He quickly removed his trench coat and balled it up, stuffing it into his bag as he walked briskly.

Tessa had often told him that he looked like a Bible salesman in just his suit. That would serve him well now as he walked calmly along the main drag and checked into a hotel. It wasn’t until he’d entered his room and closed the door to the world that he let the tears fall.

 

 

 

Dean was lonely. He had been since Benny. He missed the way the man’s place had always smelled like the coffee shop below it. He missed swinging by the restaurant to see his boyfriend after work. He missed the man’s strong hands on him.

Dean tried to tell himself that it hadn’t been working out anyway, that this was bound to happen because they weren’t really compatible. But the hurt remained despite any and all logic. He’d been moping around and drinking heavily for over a week now. After work today he’d headed out to the bar with his buddies from shop. Bored with them, he’d pulled out his phone opened his Grindr app for the first time in a long damn time.

Why not, right? Besides, this is how he’d met Benny. Maybe it was time to meet someone new. He smiled as he saw that there were quite a few willing bodies nearby. He sent a few messages and when he got one that said, “Where are you?” he responded, “Johnny’s Tavern.”

As his friends played darts nearby, Dean pulled up the profile picture. The guy was hot… way hot. He looked like a movie star. No way could the picture be accurate. He chugged his beer and reminded himself that even if the dude wasn’t half as hot has pic, he was still damn fine.

A few minutes later, Dean smiled as the gorgeous man from the picture came walking into Johnny’s. He stood and tipped his head to the guy, reaching out to shake. The guy was young… possibly a few years younger than Dean. He had a good build, and a strong handshake. His eyes were liquid pools of deep chocolate and his smile was just the right mix of handsome and adorable. Dean was smitten from the moment they shook hands.

“Hi, I’m Dean,” he said.

“I’m Jeffrey,” the man answered, “buy you a drink?”


	4. Dream of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ravenwolf36 for editing this.

Cas was lost. So lost, without Tessa. He hadn’t realized how comfortable he’d gotten in the little box that they’d shared. But now he could see that it had become his dwelling, even though it really wasn’t one. With her gone, he couldn’t go back there. Even if he could stomach the thought of returning to places that he’d shared with her, the people who knew them would ask questions about what had happened to her. Questions he didn’t trust himself to answer.

There had been drugs involved in the altercation between Tessa and her friends. She’d been certain that the path she was on would lead her to more money which she could use to “get out of that damn box” and into her own place. However, a large amount of the drugs in question were now missing and people would be looking for those drugs. It was just another reason why he could never return to their place.

Watching Tessa change hadn’t been easy and her darkness had grown quickly – far faster than Cas could’ve ever imagined. It had gotten difficult to sleep in the box with her the last few days of her life, because the sensations that radiated from her made him uncomfortable.

But, he’d seen her lovely face long before she’d become the pulsing mass of Dark that he’d killed a few days ago; and that face haunted his dreams whenever he slept. More than anything else, he felt that he should have saved her from herself somehow. He thought of it day and night, growing ever more frustrated. So much introspection… but still he was at a loss. He couldn’t even venture a guess at how one could save a person from their darkness.

He’d carried a bag that day as he’d fled the scene of Tessa’s murder. It was still with him now. He’d checked into a hotel room to hide and had not left since - except to go to the desk and pay for another day when he needed to. The bag had his things in it, his trench and his crackers. It also, by happenstance, included Tessa’s hoodie. He pulled it out now, burying his face in it and inhaling, letting the scent of her fill his mind and heart.

There had been drugs in that bag too. He’d found them right away and flushed them down the toilet. He’d also taken the time to wash his clothes in the sink as Tessa had taught him. He’d crawled into bed as they dried on the rod in the bathroom, naked and sick with sadness. He’d slept for a full day without even meaning to.

When he’d awakened, he’d turned on the TV for the first time. Thanks to Tessa, he now knew how to do this and why it was important. He had no talking device of his own, but he could get information from “the news”. The news that applied to them, here in Kansas City, came on at times that corresponded with eating food. Breakfast, lunch and dinner as Tessa had labeled them. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Cas could see that it was almost time for the dinner news. He’d listened carefully to the entire broadcast. His killing was mentioned, but only briefly. It was described as a “gang style shooting on the east side of Troost,” and he was pleased to hear that there were no “leads.” This meant that he was in the clear. If a recording device had caught him as he’d fled the scene, his image would have been found by the police already.

Still, despite knowing that he was in the clear, it didn’t feel right to go back to any of the places or people he’d met through Tessa. That part of his life needed to be over. Her memory was reminder enough of how he’d failed her.

Now, having been in this hotel room for days, Cas had no idea what to do next. He couldn’t keep spending the precious currency that he’d saved up as he lived with her. He needed to get out of this hotel room and move on with life _before_ he was out of money. But, he was so weary that he kept on promising himself he’d go after he rested a bit more… and so it had been for days.

 

 

 

Dean didn’t stay at the bar long once Jeffrey arrived. The guy was hot as fuck and Dean couldn’t wait to get him in bed. No longer the blushing virgin of the gay scene, Dean didn’t feel self-conscious as he chatted up his gorgeous new friend. They sat at the bar for a while getting to know each other and when they’d moved on to their second round of drinks, Dean took Jeff around to meet all his work buddies. Cole and Adam were playing darts with a couple of girls. Dean introduced his new friend and had a few laughs. Then he put his hand on the small of Jeff’s back and guided him over to a booth in the back where Garth, Ash and Bobby were laughing and arguing over the computer system at the shop. Dean introduced his new friend to the three, staying just long enough to not be rude. Then he leaned in and whispered, “Wanna get outta here?” in Jeff’s ear.

When Jeffrey gave a demure nod, Dean moved back to the bar to settle his tab. In the few moments he spent waiting for his bill, presenting his card and signing his receipt, Dean found himself elated. He was thrilled with Jeffrey. The man was perfect. He was almost Dean’s exact build – perhaps not as strong in the arms. His ass was perfect… a bubble butt if Dean had ever seen one. It begged for squeezing and spreading and it was all too easy to imagine burying his face between those cheeks.

It was incredibly enticing to be with this man and know… not hope, but know… that this man wanted to be fucked. He could tell. It was all over him. When Dean had slid his hand to the small of Jeff’s back, he’d felt the guy push his ass back. It was subtle – he was doubtful that even a watching eye would’ve noticed it. But Dean could _feel_ it. His dick twitched in his pants as he thought about it and his mind raced with lurid images of him fucking this boy… bent over the table… on his knees in the bed… against the wall in the shower.

No double hand jobs tonight, he thought gleefully. No fleshlight. No sir. He was going to bury his fat cock between those bubble cheeks and rock Jeff’s world. He couldn’t wait to hear his name whispered, garbled, screamed.

With the bar tab settled, he turned to his companion for the evening and smiled. The returning smile was innocent and sweet – big dark eyes rich with want. The man was either a little shy or he played it up to seem shy for Dean. He couldn’t be sure. The only sure thing right now was the urgency he felt to get this man alone.

“Did you drive here?” Dean asked as they stepped out onto the sidewalk together.

“Yes, did you want to take my car? Go to my place?”

“I drove too,” replied Dean, “Maybe I should follow you?”

“Can you leave your car and ride with me, please?” Jeff asked him.

“Why?” Dean asked, uncertain as to why it would matter.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” confided Jeff in a hushed tone, “I’m a little shy. I’ve never done this before. I’d really like to stay together. I might lose my nerve if I’m alone in my car.”

Dean watched the guy laugh nervously and remembered back to the first time he’d tried Grindr… how he’d been so uncertain about it. He’d been unable to even imagine meeting someone strictly for sex. All Benny had been able to get from him that first night was a “yes” to date to meet for drinks the following day. Understanding Jeff’s apprehension he gave the guy a nod.

Jeff smiled warmly at him in response and Dean promised himself to be good to this kid. In keeping with that he had to give a fair warning. “I gotta be straight with ya Jeff. I’m not gonna just leave my baby parked here all night. You’ll have to bring me back here before it gets too late.

“I will,” he said firmly, “I promise.”

Dean changed his pace, allowing Jeff to take the lead as they walked toward his car, a late model Buick sedan in a forgettable shade of dark blue.

As they climbed in, Jeff gave him another of those bashful smiles that he was quickly becoming fond of. “I promise I won’t be this shy all night,” said Jeff softly, biting his bottom lip as he looked at Dean.

Dean gave him an approving smile and asked where Jeff lived.

“Over by Hospital Hill,” he replied, “I was only over here to pick up some doorknobs. There’s a contractor over on E. 18th street. He saves all the good stuff whenever he demo’s a house and he’s got a little warehouse out back. You can find anything there… doors, windows, antique ceiling fans and lights and stuff. I went looking for glass door knob, but I ended up driving all the way over there for nothing.”

“What did you need glass door knobs for?”

“Oh, for the house I’m restoring.”

“You restore houses?” Dean asked him, impressed.

“Kind of. I work for my dad. He lives in Chicago. He buys old houses here, though. The big ones that can be cut down into apartment buildings. He buys them and then I do the work to get them ready for tenants. It works nicely for me because I get to live there for free while I work on them. Depending on what neighborhood the place is in, we’ll assign a budget and a concept. Sometimes the place is in a declining area so the concept is just to do it fast and cheap. But the one I’m working on now is in a transitioning area that’s filling with young professionals. This one, I get to do real nice. Vintage fixtures and everything. It would have been great to get some matching glass doorknobs for it.”

“Bet you could order those online,” said Dean conversationally.

“You’re probably right,” Jeff agreed. 

“You sure you don’t mind driving me so far back?” Dean asked.

Jeffrey kept his eyes on the road but nodded and said, “I’m sure.”

 

 

 

Cas woke to strong sunshine pushing through the thick, discolored curtains and bathing the room in a strange orangey brown color. He sat up and looked at the clock. It was almost dinner news again. He’d lost an entire day and night to sleeping. Despite this, he still didn’t feel rested. With a deep sigh, he reached for the controller and turned on the TV. He watched through mindless programming and commercials as he waited for news. When it came on, there was no discussion of the killings he’d perpetrated before taking up residence here. There were mentions of others though. Darkness and the dark deeds of people had not rested while he did.

He’d been here so long that this was starting to feel like a dwelling to him. A house. A home. A place where he could rest when weary and clean himself as often as he liked. Here, he could eliminate (or piss, as Tessa had called it) anytime he wanted rather than having to seek out a place. But this wasn’t his dwelling. He knew that. If he stopped going to the desk to pay… even for one day… they’d remove him.

Cas knew that if he had to leave eventually, it was best to leave now while he still had some currency. Thinking of this, he rolled off the bed and moved to sit at the little table. There he pulled his money out of his bag and counted it. He was down to fifty seven dollars. That was still a lot of money compared to what he was used to having… usually he was lucky to even have twenty dollars at the same time. But this, he knew, wouldn’t leave him with much if he paid for another day in this hotel. He had to leave soon, and the thought made him tired again. Hungry now, he dug into the bag for crackers but his hand came up empty. He’d eaten them all.

He needed a plan. And now, his plan had to include the acquisition of food and the restoral of his reserve supply of pocket crackers. It was funny, he thought, how he still called them pocket crackers even though they were kept in his bag and had been for a while. The realization seemed important for some reason. He pondered it for a while, trying to figure out why. Eventually, he was able to find the connection.

One named “pocket crackers,” that’s what they were. They didn’t change to “backpack crackers” simply because he changed how he handled them. More importantly, had he not continued to think of Tessa as Tessa long after she’d become a Dark?

He’d never before thought of a Dark as person. They were always just “Darks.” Darks were posing as people… hiding what was on the inside. Or so he had thought. The reality hit him hard now as he put two and two together.

Darks. Are. People.

All of them.

Did this change things for him? He didn’t have to ponder the question for long. The answer was no. Darks, though people, are still Darks. They did horrible things to other people and the longer they lived, the more people they hurt.

Cas decided it was time to get back to hunting. But, out of respect for Tessa and her memory, he’d leave the only world he’d ever known. He’d leave the streets that were familiar to him. He’d move into new territory and start over fresh.

With this thought in mind, Cas stood and began moving with purpose. It was something he hadn’t done for days and days. He planned as he dressed. He’d head west. To the east ran familiar streets that he’d walked from top to bottom again and again. Paseo. Troost.

To the West? He had no idea what he’d find if he walked in that direction. It seemed as good a plan as any. So, he decided to walk west and explore. Along the way, he’d try to acquire more pocket crackers and his goal was to find a place to sleep before night fall. It felt pretty good to have a plan again. To have forward momentum. He didn’t feel good by any stretch of the imagination. But he felt better. He felt ready. He rolled his ragged but clean trench coat into his bag and put his money in his pocket. Glancing around the room and seeing nothing he’d forgotten, Cas stepped out the door and into the hazy, soft light of early evening.

 

 

 

It was quite a drive from the bar to Jeff’s place. But they didn’t run out of things to talk about. Dean told of his work and his family and how he’d recently come out of a relationship. Jeff responded that he was in the same situation. His lover had, in fact, just broken it off that morning. Jeff didn’t give the reason for their separation, only an admission that he’d known it had been over for a while and just hadn’t been able to officially end it.

Dean watched from the passenger seat as Jeff navigated the Buick into a gas station, parking away from the pumps and under a large tree. The sun was setting now and the sodium lights around the building had flicked on. “I’m just grabbing some beer. You need anything?” Jeff offered.

“No thanks,” Dean smiled, leaning back in the seat.

He closed his eyes and listened to music for a few minutes and soon the door was opening and Jeff was passing a six pack across the console to him. He took it and held it in his lap.

“Sorry,” said Jeff, “I should’ve asked what you’d like. Hope that’s okay,” he asked tentatively, referring to the brand he’d purchased.

“Sure,” smiled Dean, putting it down on the floor between his feet.

Dean hadn’t been in Jeff’s part of town before so he watched the scenery out his window as they drove. Kansas City was, in general, very spacious; most homes build on decent sized lots and plenty of parks scattered around. In Dean’s declining neighborhood, there were lots of gaps between houses too. They were spaces where the condemned homes had been torn down leaving only an empty lot behind. Here, however, there were no gaps between the houses. Each block was very purposeful with a house standing in each lot and most in good repair.

There were still homes with bars on windows and doors and some with fences that were more for protection than decoration. This was the city, after all. But in Jeff’s neighborhood there weren’t any houses that had plywood over windows. That, Dean had learned, was the mark of a community going down. It was contagious too. If you drove down a street and saw one house with plywood where a window used to be… and then drove that same street again in six months… you’d find several more houses in the same condition. Before long, nearly every house on the block would have plywood over at least one window. The entire street would collectively circle the drain like that for a while before some of the worst homes on in the area would be in need of demolition.

Dean was surprised by how much he enjoyed the drive through a better part of town. He found himself wondering how much it would cost to either rent or buy in a neighborhood like this one… where everyone still had a neighbor on both sides and all of them still mowed their yards.

Jeff turned off the main road and into an alley, clicking the opener on his visor as they pulled up to a huge garage. He then navigated the sedan inside and the door came down behind them as he was turning the vehicle off. Dean followed him in through door that seemed to connect to the house and found himself in a kitchen under construction. The refrigerator was in the wrong spot, out of the way of things. As Jeff leaned into it to put away their six pack, he pulled out two bottles and handed one to Dean.

Dean was looking around, interested in the project. The cabinets had been ripped out and the pipes for the sink were jutting from the wall. The space where the fridge would normally go had been torn down to studs.

“Wow,” said Dean as he took a sip of his beer, “really weren’t kidding about the renovations, huh?”

“Nope. It’s a lot of work. And,” he added as he turned and walked toward the next room, “It’s stressful living in a place that’s under construction. I’d be a fool to believe that wasn’t part of the problem between me and my ex.”

Dean followed him through a darkened doorway and into what was likely a dining room. The windows here were covered over with newspaper and painters tape. All the trim was also taped off. “You paintin' in here?” Dean asked.

“Yep. Under that tape is real oak trim. It’s going to be incredible when it’s finished.”

Dean flicked on a light and looked around. This guy was clearly a master of all trades. The kitchen and dining room were both in various states of remodel and Jeff was clearly doing most of the work himself. Beyond the doorway ahead lay another room. Probably a living room. And, from the pitch darkness in that room, it seemed safe to assume that those windows were covered for painting as well.

As he looked around, Jeff seemed quiet. When Dean’s eyes took in his surroundings, he could see why. There was something out of place here. Dean looked at it and then back to Jeff.

“I’m sorry,” Jeff fumbled, “I didn’t even think about it. I wasn’t planning on bringing someone home with me. If I had known ahead of time, I would’ve put this away. It probably looks weird to you, right?”

“It does,” confirmed Dean with a nod. His mind was already at war with itself, partly intrigued and partly uncomfortable. The floor was covered in plastic, prepped for painting as well. But in the middle was a solitary chair with a set of hand cuffs draped over its back.

“My ex… he liked for me to…,” Jeff hesitated and then took a swig of his beer before continuing. “Well, I have a secret talent, let’s put it that way.”

He looked shy again, dropping his eyes from Dean’s and letting a little smile play at his lips.

“Do tell,” encouraged Dean.

“Well, I can make a guy come. Like four or five times.”

“What?” Dean asked, uncertain he’d heard correctly.

“Yeah, usually at least three times. Anyway, my boyfriend, he liked me to do it. But he never could keep his hands off his… um… he never could keep his hands off,” finished Jeff.

“That’s what the cuffs were for?” Dean guessed.

“Mhmm,” agreed Jeff, picking at the label of his beer bottle nervously. “Does that creep you out?”

“What that you have an ex? That he wore cuffs?”

“I guess.”

“No. I did some pretty kinky shit with my ex too,” reassured Dean, mind flashing toward the night they’d both shoved their dicks into the fleshlight together. The memory carried a jolt with it as he recalled the sound their sex toy had made as they’d both fucked into it hard, again and again. He’d done lots of kinky things with Benny. He may never have bottomed, but he’d let Benny stick all kinds of things up his ass. The handle of big serving spoons, the wand of a few slim vibrators and even a set of anal beads. No, Dean was no one to judge how other people got off. He’d done things to Benny too… dirty things.

“Guess I hit the jackpot, huh?” chuckled Dean, “The first guy I hook up with after Benny is a guy who gives out multiple orgasms?”

“You mean you want to try it?” asked Jeff, still shy and staring at his feet.

Dean considered it for less than a second before answering, “Fuck yeah.”

Jeff looked up at him and smiled, “Have a seat then.”

 

 

 

Cas wandered down 27th street. He did happen across a grocery store and went inside to replace his pocket crackers. It was an unfriendly building surrounded by a tall chain link fence. The sign proclaimed it to be the Mid 27th Food Mart. When he exited, he resumed walking west but after a few blocks, the smaller buildings gave way to bigger ones. The kind that were surrounded by huge parking lots and often stood lonely and vacant at night. Upon first inspection, these kinds of places seemed like a nice place to sleep… devoid of people and very quiet. However, Cas had soon learned that it was deceptive. These kinds of places had hired men to watch over them at night… sometimes walking and sometimes in cars with lights similar to police vehicles.

These kind of buildings had taken over the landscape within a few blocks. It was beginning to get dark too. Surprised to be so weary already, having slept so much these last few days, Cas made the decision to find a sleeping place immediately. His body was simply wrung out. To his right were the towering buildings of “downtown” so he turned left at his next opportunity. Following Grand was relatively pleasant. There was rolling green grass all around and lovely fencing too. It wasn’t tall chain link meant to keep people out. It wasn’t wooden planks screwed tightly together for privacy. It was wrought iron bars, only about three feet tall. It was here to establish the boundary of the park and to look pretty… not to keep people in or out.

When he started seeing tombstones, he realized that part of this park was sectioned off for the keeping of the dead. Thinking of Tessa, he entered at the sign labeling this to be “Union Cemetery” and began wandering the winding path. He paused a few times to look at headstones that seemed unique. When he found one that he thought Tessa would have liked, he settled down next to it. It was almost dark and he felt alone, the drone of insects being the only noise. He sat for a while, watching the sky to the west morph from one color to another as the sun slid out of sight. There, alone in the dark, he spoke out loud to Tessa. He told her that he was sorry he hadn’t been able to help her and that he was sorry her life was over. He told her that he missed her and hoped that she was peacefully resting now. And he said he was especially regretful that she had no tombstone in death, just as she’d had no dwelling during her life. It just didn’t seem fair.

Cas was uncertain if there would be anyone along to make him leave or to call the authorities on him for being here after dark. But he had no strength to get back up again. He tipped his head back against the tombstone and let his eyes fall shut. It was there that he spent the night.

 

 

 

Dean looked at Jeff, then at the chair, then back at Jeff. “Just like this?” he asked, “Or do I need to…” he didn’t want to say ‘take off my pants,’ so he simply gestured towards his legs hoping Jeff would understand what he meant.

“Up to you,” said Jeff, stepping closer, “I mean, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Dean nodded and moved to the chair with his jeans still on. He settled on it and felt his pulse kick up a notch as he did. His stomach was swirling with anticipation already as he watched Jeff move in on him and reach behind him for the cuffs. It was so erotic to hear them clunk against the solid wood of the chair and when Jeff moved behind him he closed his eyes. His body was a livewire… buzzing with electricity and when he felt Jeff’s hand slide along his forearm and pull it behind his back, he found himself already breathing heavily, practically panting with lust.

The click of the cuffs behind him sent a shiver up his spine.

“How’s that?” Jeff asked him, “Too tight?”

“No, s’good,” whispered Dean as he watched Jeff walk back around in front of him and get to his knees.

“Fuck,” whispered Dean as he watched Jeff’s hands reaching for his groin. Already his dick was filling and he’d not even been touched yet. The guy was intentionally slow as he undid Dean’s belt and unzipped him. Slow, achingly slow, Jeff dug down into his jeans with gentle fingers. They found his cock and lifted it out into the still air of the room.

“You’ve got a nice one,” he said to Dean.

Apparently it was Dean’s turn to blush and be shy. He could think of nothing to say in return. The pads of soft fingers teased at his tip and Dean was watching it happen when the first little drop of clear liquid presented itself. Jeff ran his thumb over it and swiped it away, looking Dean in the eye as he brought that thumb to his lips and licked it.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered again.

“You like that?” Jeff asked him.

“Yeah man,” nodded Dean, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Good,” said Jeff calmly as he got back to his feet. “Because I’m sure that’s the only thing you’ll like tonight. You see Dean,” he said as he stepped back from the chair, “I’ve brought you here for my pleasure. Not yours.”

The cold sweeping of dread moved over Dean in that instant. Jeff looked different now. Maybe because he’d said something threatening. Maybe because he was taller than Dean now that he was seated. Maybe it was because he was at a disadvantage being the one cuffed.

But, Dean didn’t allow himself to freak out. Was he at a disadvantage? Absolutely. He was the visiting team at this sporting arena. He was in someone else’s house… a long way from home. He had no idea where to search for a weapon or how loud he’d have to yell for the neighbors to hear him. He had no idea how long it would take the cops to come knock on this door if they were called.  But he was far from helpless. He was stronger than his captor by far. He was smart and he’d been through some scrapes in his life. This wasn’t his first time having to fight in cuffs.

His instincts warned him to move fast. Now. Don’t waste time talking or trying to outsmart this perv. Just stun him with action. Be aggressive. Unexpected. With that thought in mind, Dean put all his weight behind the action when he leapt out of the chair.

The cuffs clinked and his body heaved, but it took a few seconds for his brain to catch up. This chair was anchored to the floor. His cuffs were intertwined between the spindles of the chair. He wasn’t going anywhere. As the reality of his situation set in on him, Dean looked up at his captor and saw him smile. He circled Dean’s chair the way a shark circles bloody meat… a little closer with each pass.

He looked down his nose at Dean and laughed. Dean was swallowing bile down the back of his throat. Why wasn’t he screaming? He should scream, right?

As he opened his mouth and summoned air into his lungs, he saw Jeff lean over and flick a switch on the air compressor that sat idle near the window with a paint gun resting on top of it. The sound of the the large motor filled the entire house just as Dean let out his first scream. In the back of his mind he knew it was useless. Anyone outside this home would hear nothing but the constant drone of this compressor running. Probably a sound they were used to, considering how much work Jeff had already done on this house.

“You are a fine specimen Dean,” the guy said into his ear, “But you’re foolish. And now, you’re mine.”

 

 

 

Cas woke in the middle of the night having heard an animal shuffling nearby. He coughed to alert it of his presence and then relaxed when he heard it scuttle away. His body was sore and stiff from sleeping sitting up. So he stretched and pulled his trench out of his bag. He tugged it on, it was getting cooler and the grass he was sitting in was damp with dew. With his coat wrapped tightly around him, he laid down in the tall grass and looked up at the moon. It was beautiful, striking shades of white and grey against the deep blue sky. A billion points of light twinkled above and the mild breeze rustled the leaves a bit in the trees around him. It was a beautiful night. It had been nice sleeping on a mattress and having a dwelling, even if it was a mockery of what most would call a dwelling. But there was something to be said for being outside and staring up at the sky. He counted the stars for a very long time before his eyes started getting heavy again.

 

 

 

Dean’s body was on full alert, adrenal glands pumping to fill his body with all it needed to either fight or flee. Sadly, he could do neither. All he could do was sit there, sweating, seething with anger and frustration as Jeff returned to walking circles around him. He’d give anything to be able to tuck his cock back in his jeans and zip them up. It was just lying there now… out in the open… so utterly weak and defenseless. Dean found himself feeling more vulnerable than he ever had. This was the stuff of horror movies… it couldn’t be real… it just couldn’t.

Dean watched as Jeff turned and left the room. It made him want to puke, the way Jeff walked. The guy was strutting now, gleeful. Shy Jeff, if he existed at all, was gone. In his place was deranged Jeff. Jeff who had Dean completely and utterly captured.

As soon as the guy left the room, Dean began looking around frantically for anything he could use. Anything to help save him. His eyes flicked from mundane thing to mundane thing… a light switch… a bucket of paint… there was just nothing. His mind was spinning too fast to be productive. On some level he knew he shouldn’t panic… that was the last thing he should do. But how could he not?

Jeff had been gone less than a minute when he returned again. Dean felt his stomach twist in fear when he saw what the man carried. He was shaking his head no before Jeff even came near him. He locked his jaw with all his might and continued his silent protest as Jeff walked closer to him with a ball gag dangling from his fist.

“I thought you might fight me on this one,” said Jeff calmly, just loud enough to be heard over the racket of the compressor. “So I brought this.”

Dean felt tears prick in the corners of his eyes as he watched Jeff reach into his back pocket and pull out a pair of tin snips. He swiveled his head to follow the man as he stepped around behind Dean. His moist eyes began clouding over and his vision swam.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Jeff from behind him, “You’re going to be a good boy and let me put this on you. If you don’t,” he said firmly, “I’ll take your finger.”

Dean jumped out of his skin when he felt the cool touch of metal to his pinky.

“Are you going to be good for me, Dean?”

Dean didn’t know what to say. Should he beg? Would that even work? No. It wouldn’t. He didn’t need to try begging to know it wouldn’t work. So he didn’t bother. He was trying to reason it out – trying to decide how best to approach the situation. But Jeff didn’t give him the time. Now there was cold metal pressing on his finger from both sides. His mind rebelled against the idea the Jeff would really do it. But deep inside was a looming suspicion that Jeff would do that - and more.

Dean had gotten into this chair of his own volition. It had been beyond foolish. Would he now allow himself to be gagged as well? He’d have to make a decision soon… either cooperate or fight this all the way. In his gut, Dean decided to fight and was satisfied with his decision. He had no idea what awful things Jeff wanted to do to him, but he was done making it easy on the guy. He clenched his jaw as tightly as he could and began thrashing as much as his cuffs would allow. He kept his jaw clenched tight as he thrashed and wiggled his fingers as wildly as possible. It was all he could think to do that would make it harder for Jeff to really hurt him.

It wasn’t enough. A sudden explosion of pain shot through him and there was no time to consider a reaction. It was involuntary – his head snapped back and his mouth opened into a wide scream. It was guttural, it used all his oxygen and it ended in a gurgle as a ball was shoved into his mouth and pulled tight.

Tears streamed down his face now and he felt snot bubbling at his nostrils. His teeth clenched against the ball and his tongue flailed around in his mouth, its normal place of rest now taken. His body was clenched as it bore the pain that was radiating from his finger and spreading over the rest of him. It didn’t sting. It didn’t throb. He would have needed new words to describe this pain.

“You should’ve just let me gag you, Dean,” his tormentor said into his ear, “You’d still have ten.”

Dean couldn’t see. His eyes were flooded with tears. But he could make out the lumbering shape of his captor as the man moved back around in front of his chair and leaned in over him, blocking out the light. “Let’s hope you learn to do what you’re told before I run out of fingers to cut off.”

Dean wasn’t focused on Jeff anymore. The man had moved out of his sight and Dean was putting all his energy and brain power into just breathing. He felt like he was just a few breaths from choking to death. He couldn’t wipe away the tears that streaked his face or the snot that danced at his nostrils with each breath. To suck in a deep breath through his nose was to suck all that back in. So, he worked to keep his breaths shallow. Spit was backing up in his mouth too and he needed to swallow it. But he couldn’t and he had no idea why.

Then, suddenly, it was quiet. The compressor was off. Without even thinking, he began to scream. But it was for nothing. He could barely even breathe, make any substantial noise from behind his gag.

“Look,” said Jeffrey, stepping back into Dean’s line of sight, “I’ve got to go out for a while. Do your best not to puke ok? I’m pretty sure you’ll choke to death if you do.”

Dean hated that the man was right. He was already working not to choke to death as it was.

“It’s not pleasant, choking to death. I’ve seen it happen. And besides,” prattled Jeff, “There’s so much to do before you die. I mean… its early Dean. You haven’t even tried to escape yet. You don’t want to die before you even make a try for it do you?”

Dean closed his eyes then, tried to cut the image of Jeff out of his mind. Sadly, it was clearer when his eyes were closed. When he opened them again, Jeff was gone. Dean wasn’t sure if he’d left the house or just the room, having not been watching. At least in the man’s absence, Dean was able to calm himself a little. He needed to. Desperately. Or he would die, he knew that. He’d choke on his own spit and snot in this damn chair with his dick still hanging out. Not how he wanted to go.

Unfortunately, Jeff returned a moment later. Dean watched him step closer, blinking away tears the best he could to try and get a look at what was in his hands now. He stared at it, but couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. He could make out two tines… like those on the kind of fork that people used to turn meat on a grill in their back yards.

To his utter horror, Jeff actually held up the contraption in front of his face, letting it dangle there so Dean could get a good look at it. It did indeed have two tines. Unfortunately, it had two tines at each end and, what was obviously a collar, attached.

“Ever seen one of these before?” Jeff taunted him.

Dean didn’t blink. Didn’t breath. He just worked to hold his composure.

“This,” said Jeff reverently, “Is called a Heretics Fork. They used these during the Spanish Inquisition.”

Dean felt Jeff’s hands on his neck, and began to thrash in his seat again. “Come on Dean, you just lost a finger over a ball gag. You want to lose another already? If you don’t move it won’t even hurt.”

He didn’t stop thrashing. Wouldn’t and couldn’t. He refused to be a party to his own torture.

A fist connected with his cheek and rocked his world. His head rolled from the punch, feeling like it rotated 180 degrees. The light above him swam uncontrollably and his eyes couldn’t focus. Sadly, though, he could feel fingers at his neck. There was a tightening and he knew that Jeff was putting the contraption on him. He tipped his head forward to begin fighting again, but felt a snake bite the soft flesh under his chin. He shied away from the pain and tried again from another angle, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t bring his chin any closer to his chest than it currently was.

Slowly, his addled mind caught up. He realized that he was now wearing a collar with the double ended fork attached. If he leaned forward, two prongs would bite into his chin and the other two would bite into his chest. He could already feel blood dripping down his neck from the first pokes.

This is it, he thought. This is how I’m going to die.

“I hate to do this to you Dean, just leave you all alone when we’ve only just gotten started” Jeff said softly, “But, an entire bar full of people just saw me leave with you. They know my name and how we met. I’m going to have to do something about that, aren’t I?”

Dean’s mind was racing again as he thought of his friends at the bar. Had that really been just a little while ago?

His attention went straight to his dick when he felt Jeff’s hands on his lower body, one on each of his thighs. He stiffened, looking down as much as he could without moving his head and plunging the fork back into his skin. Dean’s focus was on his dick, which was still hanging out, and Jeff was leaning dangerously closer.

“I’m going to go back to the bar,” whispered Jeff as his hands slid up Dean’s legs, “And if your friends are still there, I’m going to act like you and I didn’t hit it off. If they ask, I’ll tell them you got out of my car to walk back here and that I’ve come back to apologize. Hell, friends like yours? They’ll probably buy me a beer while I wait and give me advice about you. But either way, I’ll have my alibi. When you go missing, I will no longer be the guy who left with you. I’ll be the guy who waited for you all night at the bar.”

Dean’s throat tightened as he listened to Jeff talk about his friends. A single tear slid out of his eye and rolled down his cheek as his heart clenched for wanting to be back at the bar with them… to be able to go home alone after. To not be here. To not die tonight.

“I’ll probably be gone a while, so try and get some rest while I’m away,” Jeff taunted, “Because when I get back… we’re going to have some fun.” As he said it, he ran a light palm over Dean’s withered pecker. The contact sickened him and the words filled him with dread. He kept quiet, not wanting to do anything to provoke the man.

Instead, he focused on keeping his head still and listened to the footsteps as Jeff walked around. He heard the clink of beer bottles as Jeff picked them up and the clunk as he pitched them into a trash can in the kitchen. He heard the door shut and a lock slide home. Then he heard the garage door go up and come back down.

Dean was thankful, so thankful to have some time. Everything had happened so fast, he’d been struggling to keep up. And clearly, Jeff was ten steps ahead of him. If he ever wanted to see daylight again, he’d better get smart quick.

His recklessness and carelessness had landed him here. His inability to cope had left him witless at the hands of his tormentor. He needed to think. He needed to assess his situation and formulate a plan. He had one thing going for him that he could think of… noise.

He knew that, and obviously Jeff knew it too. That’s why he’d been gagged. All Dean had to do was alert the neighbors to his presence and he’d be saved. His early screams had been covered by the generator. But that couldn’t run in the middle of the night. Neighbors would complain. They’d either knock on the door or call the cops. Either way, Dean would be rescued. Brainstorming now, Dean pondered ways to make a racket without the use of his mouth.

The drive from the bar had taken about 20 minutes. There and back would be 40. For Jeff to put in a good showing at the bar, he’d need to stay for a while. Dean figured he had anywhere from one to as much as three or four hours before Jeff would return. The thought of Jeff sitting with Dean’s friends was disturbing, but he forced himself to focus.

This wasn’t like the movies where the villain ties a guy to a chair and leaves. That’s easy to escape from… just break the chair. This was different. His chair was anchored to the floor and it didn’t give an inch. It didn’t even wiggle. He was cuffed to said chair. But even still, he may have stood a chance if weren’t for the damn fork in his neck. If he thrashed too hard, if he twisted or fell, he could send that fork straight up into the bottom of his jaw. It would be a very slow and very painful way to bleed out.

Dean racked his brain until he’d lost all track of time. But he simply couldn’t think of a way out of the chair. He couldn’t even make any real noise. He was a sitting duck. He couldn’t really look around with his chin up in the air like it was, but he tried to see as much as he could. The overhead light was relentless and stinging his eyes but he searched the walls for anything that could help him in anyway. He listened to see if he could hear the neighbors or any sounds from outside.

As time ticked by, his neck was beginning to really ache from the effort of holding his head up. And, his nasal passages were constricted from his crying. It was getting progressively harder to breathe. He tried letting his head back farther, but it was no relief. The back of his chair was low… too low to provide any support for his neck. He was able to shimmy forward a little and bend at the waist, which helped a bit, but with his arms bound behind him, he wasn’t able to move far.

Twice his muscles spasmed and caused his chin to come down on the poker. It was a searing pain that brought tears back each time it happened. The only noise in the room was the slow drip of blood from his finger. He could hear it plopping on the plastic beneath his feet. Blood was dripping down his neck too, it tickled and itched and it was maddening not to be able to scratch it or even wipe it away.

Dean tried to occupy his mind with thoughts of Jeffrey. He needed to figure out some things. Like, what was Jeffrey’s motivation? What did he really want from Dean? How long would he play with Dean before actually killing him? The only thing he had to use right now was his brain… so why was it failing him? There had to be something he was missing. He forced his mind to retrace their steps from the time he’d met Jeff at the bar until now. It only took a few minutes for hope to take root. The convenience store! Of course! They’d stopped at a gas station for beer! There would be security footage available to the cops… they’d see Dean in Jeff’s car and know that they’d been lied to… that Jeff’s alibi was false… they’d come looking for him!

Immediately, Dean felt better. He felt better just having a plan. If he couldn’t get free… he could hold on. That was his plan. Just hang on and give the cops enough time to find him. Bobby, God bless him, Bobby would call the cops first thing in the morning. Dean never missed work without calling. Between seeing Jeff at the bar tonight and Dean not showing for work in the morning, Bobby would be on the case like stink on shit. He’d call the cops first. Then he’d call Rufus and maybe even John. They’d leave no stone unturned until he’d been found. And Sam! Dean had been so out of sorts that he’d forgotten his trump card! His baby brother has psychic dreams of people who need saving! Immediately, he closed his eyes and began thinking. Hard. He pictured Sam’s face behind his eyelids and started up a chant.

“Come get me Sammy… he’s gonna kill me… come get me Sammy… he’s gonna kill me… I’m on Charlotte Street… come get me Sammy… he’s gonna kill me Sammy… come get me…I’m on Charlotte street… come get me Sammy.”

It had been quiet for so long that it startled Dean when he heard the garage door go up. He had no idea how many hours had passed, only that it had been dark for a very long time. His nausea threatened to return as he heard Jeff’s footsteps coming into the kitchen. He started breathing faster again as the sound of his captors footsteps drew closer. He was already losing his shit again. Hours he’d been left to his own devices and it had gotten him nowhere. He was still in the same position he’d been in when Jeff had left. Maybe a bit more bloody - and a lot more sore. What Jeff carried in his hands now brought a surge of terror to Dean’s chest. He began chanting again in double time as he realized he was about to lose consciousness. “Sammy – come for me – charlotte street – Sammy come for me Charlotte street – Sammy come for me – Sammy come for me…”

Dean’s eyes were wide as he watched Jeff approaching with a brown bottle in one hand a white cloth in the other. He’d seen this in movies and he knew what was coming. He couldn’t even struggle, his head perfectly still and poised over steel tines as the cloth covered his face.

“Sammy… Sammy……...Sammy…………..Sammy…………Sam…my…………..Sa……..my…………..Sa….

 

 

 

Cas woke up at the crack of dawn to the sound of a lawn mower starting up somewhere across the grounds. He stood and shucked his wet coat, rolling it up and stuffing it into his bag. Then he walked out of the cemetery and back out onto Grand, following it until it south even after it merged with Main. As he walked, he formulated his plan for the day. He’d follow this road down to the edge of town, hunting as he went. He’d keep his eyes peeled for places to sleep and eat too. When he got to the edge of the city, he’d walk over a block and head back north again. He’d do this for days, he figured, much like he’d done at his old hunting grounds. The plan was, if he hadn’t found somewhere more suitable to sleep by the time he got back up here, then he’d sleep in the cemetery again tonight.

This area was different from the streets he normally walked. It was cleaner here, both the streets and the people on them. There were more cars and more businesses and more eating places… lots of colorful signs. He also noticed that there were less people like him. Less people carrying a bag of belongs or wearing the worn out shoes and clothes that mark a person as having only one outfit. No one here was carrying a sign or holding a cup. People were smiling as they used their talking devices. It was different. Sadly, there were not less darks. He’d not been hunting long when he saw one. He followed it, as was his way. But it had gotten in a car and sped off. Having no vehicle, he was unable to follow it. The frustration got the better of him for only a moment. Cas knew that sooner or later, it would come around again. And when it did, he would kill it.

When he reached the river, he seated himself on a park bench and rested for a while, watching the water roll by. The sun had started sinking and the hottest part of the day was over. Ready to move on, he crossed the bridge. As he did, he noticed that Main had turned into Brookside. He continued on for a while until the road ended at West Meyer Boulevard.

As planned, he turned left and walked over a few blocks, preparing to head north again. That’s when he found himself at the intersection of West Meyer and Main. Main? Hadn’t Main turned in to some other street a long time ago? Curious, he turned onto Main and began walking north, wondering if this road would return him to where he’d started from.

The area was lovely and he found himself smiling as he hunted. There was green grass everywhere, both in front of businesses and dwellings, and there were lots of trees. The sun was shining but he wasn’t too hot because the sidewalks here where largely shaded by huge trees. The sound of the birds singing had him feeling cheerful for the first time in days. And, with few people on the street in this area, he had time to look up at the sky and enjoy the wispy clouds through the stretching branches above without missing any possible Darks. The mystery of what had happened to Main Street only deepened when he found it ending again as he reached 59th street.

Scratching his head, he moved over a block and tried heading north again on Grand. But that ended on 57th street. The sun was starting to set and Cas had to admit to himself that he was unlikely to find his way back to the cemetery tonight. Even the names of the streets he’d walked already confusing. He’d not seen an eating establishment for a long time, but there was a park at the end of the block. So, he walked over and sat down on a bench to eat some pocket crackers and rest for a while. It was quite pleasant here and he enjoyed watching the children on the playground. As the sun set, the park slowly emptied and by dark, he was alone. He sat in the dark for a few minutes debating, but eventually, the idea of crawling up into the little pretend house on the playground started sounding better and better.

He waited a long time to be sure no one else was around before he actually climbed up the blue plastic steps, crawled through a yellow tube and into the green plastic playhouse. From inside it, he could see out through the slats in several places. It was pleasant too because he was about eight feet in the air and at that height, the light breeze brushing past kept him cool.

He was only disturbed once. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when he was awakened by hushed voices and approaching footsteps. He tensed, but didn’t stand, uncertain if there was danger or not. As he waited, breathing as silently as possible, he watched the approach of two girls. They appeared to be younger, like Tessa. Not quite women but not really kids anymore either.

There was a flicker of light and Cas watched as they lit up a cigarette and continued talking as they passed right underneath him and kept walking towards the other end of the park. One of them sat on a swing for a few minutes as they passed the cigarette back and forth between them. Then they squashed it out in the sand and left. Cas exhaled a deep breath and let his head rest again, the sound of crickets lulling him to sleep.

 

 

 

When Dean started to regain consciousness, he had a moment of bliss where his head was pounding and his body was sore and he thought he had a hangover. But, as he moved to stretch and couldn’t, the reality of his situation came screaming back to him. He was still wearing a ball gag and his mouth was full of rancid tasting spit. It was slimy saliva that he couldn’t spit out. He could feel it leaking from the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t leaking fast enough. He bit down on the ball in frustration and then willed himself to swallow it down. His jaw was aching as much as his head. He was no longer in the chair. He was laying spread out on his stomach. He almost didn’t want to open his eyes and look around. He could feel that he was naked and there was a heaviness in his heart at what that meant. He was even more exposed now than he’d been with his dick hanging out in the chair.

As the fogginess in his mind began to clear, he started to think. It was important to keep his eyes closed as long as possible. If he opened them and Jeffrey saw it… it would be playtime. He knew that like he knew the alphabet. If he’d been left alone because he was sleeping then he’d best make the most of it. He needed time to think. He listened, trying to hear movement. But even when he’d listened so long that his ears ached, he heard nothing. As he’d listened to the silence, he’d taken stock of himself. He was sore all over. Especially his neck and back. The pain in his finger was no longer the undefinable kind… it was throbbing. At least he had words for the pain now. He felt like he was laying on something soft, probably a mattress. And, never in his life had he slept spread out like this of his own volition. He usually slept in the fetal position. Or sometimes on his back with his legs crossed over each other. His current body position suggested that he was tied up, with his limbs each anchored to one corner of the bed. But, he felt nothing in any of his limbs. Only the throbbing of his finger which seemed to pulse up his arm and into his shoulder with each beat of his heart.

He had to piss. Fuck.

Dean knew that reality could only be put off for so long. The way one might rip off a Band-Aid, Dean jerked his head up and looked around the room with wide eyes, searching for danger. He made three sweeps of the room, head turning from side to side before he let himself believe he really was alone. And he was. He was in the basement now. He was on a dirty mattress which had no sheet. His hands and feet were restrained, nylon cuffs around his wrists and ankles which were attached to the wrought iron bedframe with chains.

He twisted his arm and craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of his finger. When he did, he wished he hadn’t. His eyes almost couldn’t believe what he’d seen. His entire hand was covered in reddish brown dried blood, some of it flaking off. The strap around his wrist was also caked in dried blood and his pinky… it was really gone. There was the bloody stump of one knuckle and then nothing. The bone could be seen, though it was deep red, covered with dried blood and chucks of torn flesh. The entire stump was covered in goo… some clear and shiny, some yellowish white. Likely puss.There was a slow leak of fresh blood oozing out and staining the mattress crimson beneath it.

He was on his stomach which was good news for his dick. He’d been so fearful for it while sitting in the chair. But now he had a new vulnerability… his ass. If he was naked and chained in this position… there was only one thing his captor could have in mind.

This basement room was large. The walls were cinderblock. Heavy metal pipes ran down from above and into the floor. There were no windows. From his vantage on the bed, Dean could see partway up the stairs. From up there, light was shining down. The presence of light at the top of the stairs suggested that the door to the basement was open. And in Dean’s mind, that meant his captor was listening to him… waiting for his chains to clink and indicate he was awake.

Dean wanted to keep quiet as long as possible to delay any interaction. But, his body was already clenching involuntarily from muscle cramps and from the chill of having been naked in this cool basement for quite a while. On top of that, he had to piss. Badly. How long could he possibly keep still?

Dejected, he slowly laid his down on the mattress and closed his eyes. At least the fork was off his neck. He was glad for that. He could rest his head now, and that was good. The ball gag seemed to weigh a ton.

When the urge to cry started creeping over him, he chased it away. There was no point in crying. It wouldn’t help him. He forced himself to think. From here, it was impossible to tell if it was morning yet or not. But when morning came, he’d be expected at work. When he hadn’t shown up by 8:00, Uncle Bobby would call him. If Dean didn’t answer, Bobby would send someone to his house to check on him. Whether Dean’s friends had seen Jeffrey at the bar didn’t even matter. Either way, Dean would bet his last dollar that Bobby would have someone checking on him by 9:00. And if Dean wasn’t home and wasn’t answering his phone… he’d raise all the alarms. They’d find him. He was sure of it. But it could be days… and Dean honestly didn’t know how long he had.

Once again, he found his hopes resting on his brother. He worked hard to conjure up a picture of Sam behind his eyelids. Then, in his mind, he started chanting again. “Sammy… I’m alive… Sammy come for me… Sammy…

Sammy dream of me…

Sammy he’s going to kill me…

Sammy come for me…

I’m on Charlotte Street…in a basement…

Sammy come for me…

Sammy dream of me. Dream of me. Dream of me…

Dream.

Of.

Me.

 

 

 

Cas had slept well. But before it was even light outside, the birds in the trees around the park were already starting to sing. Soon it was a chorus. The faintest tinge of dawn was noticeable in the sky to the east. Ready to get moving again, Cas stretched and crawled back through the tube. As his shoes landed in the soft sand at the bottom of the plastic stairs, he smiled. That had been one of the more pleasant sleeps he’d had without a mattress.

With his goal of getting back to his starting point still nagging at him, Cas once again moved over a block and started walking north. To his chagrin, he found this street changing at its intersection with 55th. This part of the city was so strange!

Here, he looked around and found himself at an intersection of several roads. It was quite confusing. He spun slowly in circle counting. There were five. Five roads all meeting here. There were two roads that might be northbound, but he had no idea which of them to choose. With a deep sigh, he decided to follow Locust. He wished he’d been able to say he’d chosen that road because he knew it was the right road. But no. He’d chosen it because on that sidewalk, there was an archway made of stone and he wanted to walk under it. He smiled as he did so, even pausing to look back at it when he’d come out the other side. He wasn’t sure why it had been fun, but it had.

Continuing on, he saw that his adventure wasn’t over yet. This road was forking. He didn’t even consider going to the left because there was no sidewalk there. He followed the sidewalk that veered to the right and found the road to be a winding one. It was beautiful here, the dwellings all very large and attractively colored with big beautiful patches of grass and purposeful areas of flowers. As he walked, he was enjoying not knowing what was around each bend as the road wound enticingly before him.

Soon enough, the mystery of the disappearing street was solved. Locust had turned into 54th street as he’d been walking it and now he was standing at the corner of 54th and Charlotte Street. Charlotte street appeared to either begin or end right here where he stood. If he wanted to take Charlotte, he had to walk left. To the right, there was no street. But, half a block down, he could see a street to the right and it was named Charlotte Street.

He understood now. Sometimes a street would appear to end but really, it just moved over a bit. That was his theory anyway, he’d learn more as he explored his new area. It wasn’t as simple and straight as his old hunting grounds had been. It twisted and turned and moved diagonally sometimes too. But it was so much more pleasant for walking and he found himself really liking his new environment. He turned onto Charlotte Street and began following it north.

 

 

 

The eerie silence of the basement didn’t last long. Dean heard heavy footfalls on the steps and his body seized, locking up like a stiff board. His chants to his brother halted abruptly and he held his breath as he turned his face toward the stairs. When Jeff reached the bottom, he looked icily at Dean.

“It’s about time you woke up. You’ve kept me waiting all damn night.”

Dean didn’t dare move or breath. But when Jeff took a step towards him, he pissed himself. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment. The action had been accidental, but it brought relief with it. His abdomen clenched a few times as it began to relax.

“You’re a fine looking man, Dean. Far better looking than my ex. But you’ve got a lot of fight in you.”

Dean couldn’t speak, but he longed to. He wanted to shout obscenities at the man, he wanted to call him all the worst of names and threaten to kill him.

No. That was too limited. Dean just wanted to kill him.

“You were quite the little bitch about putting that gag on. Lost a finger for it too. Was it worth it? You’re still wearing it. You lost your pinky for nothing. Wouldn’t you be better off now, if you’d just opened up and let me put it on you?” asked Jeff as he perched on the side of the bed, “Try to keep that in mind, when I’m fucking you.”

Dean’s blood ran cold when he heard those words. He’d known it was coming, but to have the moment arrive was indescribable. Once again, he found himself with no words that were suitable to describe his anguish. He lowered his head to the bed and closed his eyes, deciding to focus on Sammy and on trying to be as far from reality as he could be.

He’d heard of that… people retreating into their heads and going to their “happy place” when horrible things happened to them. The happiest place he could think of was home. Sadly, it wasn’t the home of his youth in Kansas that he found himself sheltering in. It was Bobby’s home, here in Kansas City. His mind hovered there, in the living room with the ugly couch and the red flowered wallpaper. He didn’t see Bobby and Ellen here in his mentally constructed version of their home. He only saw Sam. He saw his baby brother sitting on that couch with a book in his lap. And he called to him.

The image flickered for a moment when Dean felt the bed dip and Jeff’s knees come to rest between his spread legs. He clenched up; how could he not? He pulled against his restraints both arms and legs and tried to tuck in… to make himself as small as possible. But it was useless… he was spread eagle and easy access for Jeff. Dean forced his mind back to Bobby’s living room and kept the image of Sam front and center in his mind as he felt the warmth of hands touching him, pulling his cheeks apart.

It was horrible. The happy place evaporated as he felt hardness pushing at his most private and most tender area. Then he screamed behind the ball as he was ripped open from behind. He’d been unable to utter any significant noises around that ball until now. He screamed with all he had, loud and long. Not much sound escaped, but he screamed anyway. When he was out of air, he sucked in as much as he could through his nose and screamed again. On the inside, his soul was making the same ragged sound, he was sure of it.

Tears streamed down his face, and again, snot bubbled at his nostrils. His mouth and chin were wet with his spittle and tears and with each thrust from behind him, he felt himself being ripped and torn. The bed rocked forward and his chains clinked.

Dean found himself grasping the chains that bound him just to anchor himself to something while he was shredded. As bad as he’d thought it might be… this was worse. He prayed for it to be over. He prayed for someone to come for him. In the end, he prayed to just black out. But he didn’t, couldn’t. It just went on and on and on.

 

 

 

Cas was head scratching now. It had happened again. Charlotte Street had ended. He was at a T intersection. Ahead of him was a cluster of buildings and he had the option to either go left or right. He chose to go right, wanting to walk under the strange bridge there.

As he walked under the bridge, he looked at it closely. It was high above the street, running between two similar buildings. It was enclosed, with a roof. The only bridges Cas had ever seen were open to the sky. He marveled at this one as he moved under it. There were a lot of people moving around on the street here, and most of them were young. Like Tessa had been. Many wore bags slung over their shoulders and lots of them were carrying books.

As he walked along, he came across a blue sign that read, “UMKC Campus Entrance”. Cas realized now, that this was some sort of school. He turned back toward the bridge he’d just walked under. Now that it was between him and the sun, he could see through the windows to the sky on the other side. There were people walking up there. It all made sense now. This was a school and that bridge was so that students could move between buildings without having to cross the street or be exposed to the weather. It was brilliant.

As he resumed walking, he wondered why there weren’t more of those kind of bridges. Still wanting to press north, he turned at the next corner which put him on Rockhill Road. He followed that for quite a while. He stayed on it even when he came to another of those confusing intersections with more than two streets coming together. To the side of the road was a grassy area along the river. It was as good a place as any to rest for a while and have some crackers.

 

 

 

Dean eventually screamed himself hoarse. Nothing but miserable puffs of ragged air wheezing out around the ball in his mouth. He bit down on it as he endured the angry penetrative thrusts. He’d assumed something had finally torn and started to bleed when the horrid, gritty feeling of friction had given way to an easier slide. If Jeff had used lube, he didn’t use much, it had burned and stung from the very first push. He’d never felt so raw, so torn up and abused. As he slobbered and cried and gripped his chains, he once again tried to force himself to think of his happy place. It wouldn’t work. There was no escape from this reality. There was nowhere to hide from the pain, the humiliation, the loss of control. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

For his own sanity and self-perseveration, Dean began chanting in his mind again. Sammy. Sammy. Sammy.

Sammy.

Sammy.

Sammy.

He was still chanting when he realized that Jeff was gone. He picked his head up and looked around to be sure he wasn’t dreaming. But no, he was still here, still in Hell. But at least he was alone. He wasn’t sure how long it had been over, because it still hurt just the same. The bed wasn’t rocking with the force of thrusts anymore, but the pain hadn’t lessened. He dared not move, it hurt too much. There was no relief in the act itself being finished, except that Jeff was no longer in the room.

Dean had been hearing all his life about women being raped. He’d even heard the occasional story of a man being raped. He’d just never really understood what it was. It was awful, he’d known that much. But he’d never really allowed himself to dwell on how it might actually _feel_.

Now he was overcome by a new wave of tears. He hadn’t even realized that he’d stopped crying until he started up again. These tears weren’t just his though. He was full of pity now, sharing these tears with everyone who had ever endured this nightmare from which there is no waking… this utter loss of all that one is… every fiber of their being invaded and abused. What could be worse? He could think of nothing. Maybe death. Maybe. But given his choice, he’d rather have another finger cut off than endure that ever again. In fact, he’d take his whole goddamned hand and slice it off himself. Just never, never, let that happen to him again. Ever.

 

 

 

Cas finished his crackers and moved on. Before long, he found himself presented with a chance to go right. He took it. It only got him a block before he the road bent back north again. At the next opportunity, he turned right. He was determined to make sense of the streets and if his theory about how they were laid out was correct, he’d soon stumble across Charlotte Street again.

His next right turn set him walking down a very wide road called Emmanuel Cleaver Parkway. The dwellings here were some of the biggest he’d seen yet. (And today, he’d seen some big ones.) And what do you know… the next block… Charlotte Street. Cas was grinning like a fool, thrilled with himself for having figured all of this out.

Charlotte Street ended yet again. But this time, Cas wasn’t irritated. He was thrilled with the challenge. He turned onto the cross street, Gillham, and kept moving. Gillham changed names once, but soon enough, Cas had a chance to go right again. He took it, starting down 41st Street and confident that he would eventually see Charlotte Street starting up again. There was a small playground here, and he stopped to rest his feet a bit, enjoying the laughter of the children. He made a mental note of this park, thinking that he may sleep here if he hadn’t found his way back to the cemetery by nightfall.

Once rested, he resumed walking. He was moving uphill so he tired quickly. The houses were still large in this area, but they were much closer together. And after just a few blocks, he found himself once again standing at a street corner and staring at a sign that said Charlotte Street. If this was a game, then Cas was winning.

 

 

 

Dean heard footsteps on the stairs. It jolted him awake and shot a dose of adrenaline through his body. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. How could he have slept?

As he woke, he looked apprehensively toward the steps.

“Well, look at you,” said Jeff with a sickening smile, “You don’t look like much now. You thought you were big shit when we left bar… but not anymore, right?”

Dean blinked up through crusty eyes. His face felt itchy and tight from countless tears dried into it. He couldn’t wipe his face or itch it or do anything to clean or comfort himself. Jeffrey, on the other hand, was obviously freshly showered, his hair still a little wet. He was wearing clean clothes. Jeans and bright red hoodie bearing the emblem of the Kansas City Chiefs. Dean was stunned by how completely normal he looked. Just like he had at the bar… a clean cut and attractive young man. How had he not seen the demon that lurked beneath that sweet exterior? How had he been so easily fooled?

“You look like shit,” said Jeff coldly, “You’re lucky I fucked you. I did you a favor you sorry sack of shit. All you’ve done is lay here like a little bitch and cry like a baby. At least my ex could get me off.”

It was this moment that Dean finally realized that when Jeff talked about his ex, he was talking about his last prisoner. Probably some guy who had died down here. Fuck, he thought, fuck fuck fuck!

“Well, I’ve had my shower. I think I’ll go down and pick up something to eat. Are you hungry? You must be.”

Dean hadn’t answered or spoken. He just laid there, still tied down and unable to move. Still gagged and still racked with pain from head to toe. There wasn’t a single place on his entire body that wasn’t screaming with agony. Especially his ass. It was still burning like molten fire, throbbing every bit as much as his missing digit. He felt the pain in his finger with every heart beat and the pain in his ass with every breath.

Jeff leaned in close and Dean tried to pull away, the movement clinking his chains. Jeff got right up near his face and inhaled deeply. “You smell like shit,” he said coldly, “But you’ve got a great ass. Think I’ll have at it again before I go to bed tonight.”

Even hearing the words sent Dean over the edge. He screamed hoarsely behind his gag, thrashed his arms and legs, rattled his chains and shook the bed.

It was all for nothing. In the end, it just exhausted him further and aggravated his injuries. When he sagged into the mattress defeated, he heard Jeffrey laughing aloud as he climbed the stairs.

 

 

 

As Cas moved down Charlotte street, his attention fell on a strange looking house. It was painted a very odd color. It was a pretty color, yes, a light purple. It was the kind of purple one expected a flower to be. Not a house. He stopped to look at it for a moment and then started walking again. The house next to it was a deep red brick one… probably the largest on this block. A man had stepped out of the big house and was walking toward the street. As he got closer, Cas was drawn in first by his bright red shirt. But then, as he paid closer attention, he found himself stunned to see the telltale churning of smoky black tendrils. The center of a Dark.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do, he’d never actually spotted a Dark at their home. Usually he spotted them on the street and followed them home. This was actually quite unprecedented. Not wanting to give himself away as one who sees dark things, he passed the man and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. He made sure to go at least a few more paces before sneaking a subtle peek behind him. When he did, Cas saw the man step up to his little letter box near the street and take things from it. Glancing back one last time, Cas committed the look of that house to memory.

He walked to the end of the street and turned, intending to walk around the block once and pass by it again… get a closer look. But as he turned left and kept walking, he stumbled upon an alley. It led right behind the house in question. So, he entered the alley. It was easy to tell which house. It dwarfed the smaller houses on either side of it. Facing the alley was a large garage door. When it began to lift, Cas panicked. He didn’t want to be seen until he was ready to strike. He dove behind a row of trash cans and flattened himself to the ground. He watched through a sparse bush as a sleek blue car backed out of the dwelling and into the alley. The man driving was the same one he’d seen out front – he could tell by the bright red shirt.


	5. Specter, Savior, Vengeful Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Ravenwolf36 for editing ;)

Cas watched the blue car lurch forward and begin to pull away as the garage door came back down. He sat up and looked around, wondering if anyone had witnessed him flinging himself to the ground. He didn’t see anyone. Standing, he looked up at the dwelling. It seemed quiet, but he had no way of knowing if there were other people inside or not. He chose to wait outside for the return of the blue car rather than trying to find a way in. This particular kill, he realized, was actually easier than usual. He knew exactly where the Dark lived and simply had to wait for it to return. In the meantime, he tried to develop a plan.

 

 

 

Dean was feverish, his skin was screaming and his body buzzing with adrenaline. He had a window of time, albeit a small one, where he could try and save himself. He was no longer wearing the fork… he could move. He could try to free himself. He looked around desperately for anything he could use.

Sadly, his surroundings gave away even more of what was in store for him if he wasn’t rescued soon. There were enough tools of torture down here to stage a haunted house. Everywhere he looked he saw reminders that if death found him in this basement… it wouldn’t be a quick one. If he died here, it was going to be long. And bloody.

 _I shook the bed before_ , he reminded himself, _I can move it_. With that in mind, he began flinging himself up and down, putting as much weight into the action as he could. With determination, he bit down on his ball and began channeling his movements. Like when you’re on a swing and you want to change your trajectory so you pull on one chain or the other.

The bed did move. This was good news. He’d been able to move about two inches, on a diagonal. He looked around more purposefully now. What should he be moving towards? Was there a key hanging on the wall somewhere like in the old westerns that Bobby loved?

His searching eyes saw nothing that looked like cuff keys. But he did see a bone saw. As much as it sickened him, it became his target. It was hanging from a nail that had been pounded into the leg of a workbench. If he could get his bed over there… he could get his hand on it. He was certain. If he could get that saw in his hand, he might be able to cut through his chain.

In the back of his mind, a voice was telling him not to try. The voice argued feverishly that he couldn’t possibly work his bed over there, get the saw and cut through these chains in the small amount of time that his captor was going to be gone. Logic told him to simply wait until he had a bigger chunk of time to work with. But there was no way to get on board with waiting. Not when he’d already been told what was to happen to him later tonight. No way.

He bit down on his ball again and resumed his purposeful thrashing. He was expending a great deal of energy for the small progress he was making. At this rate, he’d have to rest before he’d even moved an entire foot. Dean didn’t stop. He didn’t rest. He worked his body like there was no tomorrow, ignoring his pain, ignoring his negative thoughts. He didn’t cease movement until he heard footfalls on the steps. And with the sound of his tormentor approaching again, he dropped to the mattress in defeat. His body was heaving, and he was dizzy from working so hard when his breathing really couldn’t keep up. His breath was wheezing around his ball gag and his entire naked body was bathed in sweat. He was wet between the legs, but he wasn’t sure if it was blood leaking from him or if he’d just pissed himself again and been too focused to notice.

Tears of disappointment and frustration clouded his eyes as he looked around at how far he’d gotten… almost two feet. If he’d had more time, like six or eight hours, he could’ve made it. He hated to concede to the voice in his head that had warned him to wait. But he had to. Because now Jeffrey was about to see that Dean had been able to move the bed. He’d do something about too. Likely he’d punish Dean first and then he’d anchor the bed so it couldn’t be moved again.

As Jeffrey reached the bottom of the stairs, he spoke aloud. “My, my, my. You’ve been busy Dean.”

Dean didn’t look up, not wanting to see the smug expression on the man’s face as he observed Dean’s futile efforts.

“Well, at least you’re finally trying,” Jeff said.

 

 

 

Cas was waiting when the Dark returned. He’d moved the trash cans over, just a bit closer to the garage. Between that and the clump of scruffy bushes, he felt he was hidden enough. He’d been prepared to wait as long as it took. But not much time had gone by before he heard the garage door start to move again. Peering out from his hiding spot, Cas saw the blue car approaching. He knew he’d need to time this perfectly so he got his knees under him and crouched, ready to spring. As soon as the rear tires had crossed the threshold, Cas was moving. He kept low to the ground as he half crawled and half ran towards the opening which was dark on the inside. He could see nothing as he barrel rolled in and came to rest with one knee buttressed up against the rear tire of the car. Immediately he started working to get his feet under himself again, crawling forward to come around the passenger side of the car where he wouldn’t be seen.

Waiting there in darkness, he heard the man’s shoes scuff the cement floor of the garage as he got out of his car. He heard the rustling of bags and the slam of a car door. Then, to his surprise, bright light flooded the room. He’d not expected this… he’d be seen for sure! His head whipped back and forth between the two directions from which danger might come. The beeping startled him and he jumped; relaxing when he realized it was the same beep that most cars made when their owners walked away from them.

Cas let out a breath as he heard a door open and then close again. He’d been lucky to not be seen when the light had come on. Another minute passed and then the light flicked out. Under cover of dark, he crept slowly around the car and crossed the six or eight feet of open space that stood between him and the door that the Dark had passed through. Kicking this door down would ruin his element of surprise, so he tested the knob first. He was amazed to feel the knob turn willingly under his palm. He eased the door open very slowly, not wanting to make a sound. Then, treading lightly, he stepped in and gently closed the door behind himself.

The room he’d entered was bare and torn up. There wasn’t much light coming from the windows either, they were all covered over with newspaper. Cas could smell food… the greasy kind that came from places where hardly anyone goes in, just driving their cars around to grab a bag from the window.

He moved from one empty room to another, using caution. In the third room, he spotted an open door. Stepping up to it, he found stairs going down. They were lit only by a single light bulb suspended from the ceiling. Cas could see the Dark as it moved down the stairs, but he knew better than to follow it now. His body would cast a shadow as he moved under the light and the Dark would be alerted to his presence. Cas didn’t mind fighting. In fact, few Darks went down without a fight. But if he was to fight this man… he didn’t want to do it on the stairs.

Instead of descending, he simply waited there. As expected, the man never looked behind him when he got to the bottom. He did speak though. That had been unexpected. But it only took a moment to realize that the man wasn’t speaking to him. There was someone else down there.

Cas glanced around behind him, making certain no one was sneaking up on him. Then, he began stepping slowly from one step to the next and the next. When he reached the bottom, he was stunned. The false kindness of the Dark’s voice had led Cas to assume that he was speaking to someone who lived with him… perhaps even another Dark. But, over the shoulder of this Dark, Cas could see that there was a prisoner chained to a bed. Cas stepped forward, looking around himself one last time to be sure he was alone, reaching into the pocket of his trench for the weapon he’d planned to use. It had been his favorite weapon as of late. Simple. Efficient. Light to be carried around all day on the street. A garrote. He separated the handles and secured one in each hand. Just as he was moving in for the kill, the victim on the bed looked up at him.

 

 

 

Dean was crashing hard into a fiery lake of regret, anger and frustration. He’d known better than to try this escape with so little time. And now, his tormentor was laughing at him for it. Why did he keep making such bad choices? Why hadn’t he been listening to his intuition? He knew he’d better get his shit together, or soon one of these lapses in judgement would wind up being his last.

“You’re really pathetic,” Jeffrey said condescendingly, “I had no idea that when you finally tried to escape, you’d be so bad at it.”

Dean blinked up at the man, his shape barely visible through gathering tears. But then, an unexpected movement caught his eye. Looking past Jeff, Dean saw the ghost of a white face moving out of the dark of his dimly lit prison. He thought for a moment that it was Sam, come to rescue him. But this man wasn’t tall enough. And that trench coat… it was oddly familiar.  Was this real? Or had he started hallucinating? Was this a spirit, specter? Did he dare hope for a savior?

Dean squinted, looking back to the face of evil incarnate for a moment before closing his eyes. “Please,” he begged in his head, tossing out a fervent prayer, “Please let it be real. Let it be an angel. Please God, send me an angel.”

When Dean opened his eyes again, the specter was still there.

“Are you hungry Dean? You must be,” prodded Jeffrey, “Would you like something to eat?”

Behind his captor, Dean watched arms extend wide, as if this wonderful imagining that his brain had conjured, was the conductor of an orchestra or choir. The movement was slow and smooth. Practiced. It was beautiful in its fluidity.

Jeffrey burst out laughing and it startled Dean, bringing his eyes away from his hopeful rescuer and back to his captor, “Did you really think I’d feed you? Even take your gag off?”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to all that was holy that the ghostly presence behind Jeff would still be there when he opened them.

“That gag’s never coming off Dean. You’ll die with that gag in your mouth,” said Jeff softly, with conviction.

Dean opened his eyes and blinked them… the possible savior was still there… could it be real? Could it? Was it possible to be saved?

The movement was so fast that he never even saw it. All at once, there was no one. Both bodies standing near the bed folded into one another and dropped to the floor. There was the scuffling sound of shoes on the cement, then there was an arc of red spatter slicing through the air. There was a gurgle followed by a grunt and then silence.

Dean was stretching, pulling against his restraints and trying to see over the edge of his mattress… wondering what had happened.

Where was Jeff? Was he dead? Whose blood was that? Was this even real? Or would he wake in a moment’s time to find it had all been a dream? Where was the entity that hovered behind his torturer, silent but deadly? Where was his specter, his savior, this vengeful angel who’d come for him?

A small movement played just at the edge of the mattress. Dean hadn’t breathed, his body was tense as he waited, eyes searching. Another small movement and a grunt. Then, to his relief, he saw a face rise up that wasn’t Jeff’s. The face was pale, but the eyes shone in the dim light… blue like the base of a flame. Cold fire and swift justice. Blood spatters covered the man, and as Dean watched him get to his feet, he saw that his coat was also covered in red. He watched the man drag Jeff’s lifeless corpse a few feet away and toss it into a dark corner.

As the man turned and drew nearer to Dean, he began removing his blood spattered coat and then laid it gently over Dean’s naked and broken body. The relief delivered with that action was absolute. Finally, at long last, a small measure of dignity had been returned to him. Grateful beyond all reason and comprehension, he let his body rest for the first time. Tears overflowed and fell again, the kind he’d forgotten he’d ever known how to cry… the happy ones.

He startled a bit when fingers touched the back of his neck, but then, he felt the slight squeeze and release of the buckle being undone. The ball was no longer pressed tightly into his mouth. Will every fiber of his being, he wanted to expel in completely. But he couldn’t. He was locked up in this position. Even as the harness was gently removed from his head, he still found himself unable to close his jaws. His tongue lolled there like that of a drooling dog. But the air! Sweet relief! He could breathe! He sucked in ragged, hiccupping breaths. The slimy, matted spit and snot at his nostrils was still there but it didn’t even matter, there was such joy in pulling unencumbered breaths down deep into his lungs.

Dean couldn’t be sure how long he laid there, just enjoying breathing and being covered up. But his eyes wandered to the corner ever few seconds, checking to be sure that the devil who’d bound him here was still dead in a heap.

One by one, gentle hands freed his limbs. Dean could hardly move them. Then, he felt the bed dip. The movement sent his heart up into his throat – it was too eerily similar to the feeling of Jeff crawling up on the bed and positioning himself between Dean’s legs. He knew in his head that the danger was past and that the only person who could be sitting next to him now was the vengeful angel who’d sliced through Jeff. But his body seemed not to realize it. His knees scrambled up under him… the limbs he couldn’t move just moments ago were now flailing defensively.

Once he started moving, he couldn’t stay on the bed another second. He leapt to his feet and backed away, eyes taking in the sight of the stained mattress he’d been on for what felt like thirty years. It was covered in stains, varying shades of red and brown. It was impossible to distinguish the old from the new… the blood from the piss and shit… it was one big palette of horror. Dean gulped and pulled the coat around him tightly, not wanting to release it even long enough to put his arms through it. He clenched it to his body like a life vest to a drowning man. Using one hand to hold the coat in place, he brought the other to his face and, for the first time since he’d arrived at this place, he touched his hand to his face. It felt wonderful. He began wiping the filth from him and then wrapped his jaw bone in his palm, trying to support it as he willed it to close. Even the tiniest movement of it was sharp and painful.

Idly, his mind wondered if the jaw bone had broken or disconnected when he’d been punched in the chair – or if this was just how one naturally feels after wearing a ball gag for such a long stretch of hours. As he worked to get his mouth closed, Dean’s eyes crept over to the bed. His savior stood there, looking over the expanse of the mattress at him. His head was tilted to the side as if he was confused by something and his penetrative eyes seemed to probe gently into Dean’s soul. The man was in disarray, not just bloody from the killing, but dirty with ill-fitting clothes like a hobo would wear. It was then that Dean made the connection. He knew who this man was. He’d seen him before… on the street… the day that Ash had teased him about picking up a homeless guy.

Could this possibly be a coincidence?

“I… I know you…” Dean struggled to say. It didn’t come out sounding right. His voice was still hoarse from so much screaming and crying, but aside from that, it just sounded different to his ears. It hurt like hell to move his jaws enough to enunciate.

“Yes,” said the man, “I’ve seen you before as well.”

“H-How did you know to come for me?”

“I didn’t. I came for him. He had to die. I didn’t expect…”

Dean watched the guy try to figure out what to say. Eventually he seemed to give up. The two stood stared at each other for a distended moment before Dean finally spoke again. He kept his jaw closed and did his best to speak through his teeth which was less painful.

“Thank you.”

The man nodded but made no other movements and spoke no words.

“Guess we should call the cops?”

“No.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he’d been rescued from one death only to move on to some new brand of trouble.

“I have to get out of here,” he said, suddenly aware of a mounting instinct to flee.

“Alright,” answered the scruffy man, “Do you need more from me than my coat?”

“Do you have a phone?”

“No.”

“Can I go look for my clothes? I had a phone in my pants when I came here.”

The man nodded and didn’t move until Dean passed him, taking slow and measured steps on his shaky limbs. It pained him that he had to move closer to Jeff’s body in order to exit. But he did it. And as he slowly began to climb the steps, he felt the blue eyed man follow behind him. When he reached the top step, his bare foot landed on smooth plastic. He didn’t remember this room. He suspected it was the living room he’d not seen before he’d sat down in the chair. As he’d assumed back then, this room was prepped for painting just like the others. Or perhaps it always looked like this. Perhaps this had been Jeffrey’s same line and story with everyone he’d ever brought back here.

The two men walked slowly through the house, pausing only briefly as Dean walked past the chair he’d been subdued in. It looked the same now as it had when he’d first seen it – cuffs dangling over the back of it. There was no puddle of blood or evidence that anything horrible had happened here.

When they stepped into the kitchen, the smell of food hit Dean like a wall. His stomach rolled and growled, but as he took a step toward the brown bag perched on a box near the door, he found himself retching. He vomited on the floor, right where he stood, his body heaving to release the bile and blood and stale spit he’d been swallowing behind the gag. When he’d finished, he looked over at the homeless man and actually laughed. The guy was eating the food from the brown bag. A burger. He was shoving the food into his mouth enthusiastically, faster than he could chew and swallow. His cheeks were puffed out like a chipmunk.

“I’ve had nothing but crackers for days,” the man said as an explanation, talking with his mouth full.

Dean loved the feeling of laughter shaking his chest. He realized only now that he’d honestly thought he might die. He’d forgotten all about things like laughter and food. All he’d been thinking of was survival – his most base instincts taking over his mind. The man was looking at him now, eyes inquisitive.

“When did you eat last?” he suddenly asked Dean.

“Yesterday,” Dean answered, “You go ahead. I’m not gonna be able to keep anything down anyway.”

The man nodded and Dean turned away, still looking for his clothes. Eventually he found them in the makeshift trash – an empty five gallon bucket that once been full of drywall mud. Clearly the killer had been keeping the regular household garbage separate from the “Dean related” garbage. Even their two beer bottles were in this separate can, which still had its lid nearby.

He called Bobby with shaking hands. His call was answered on the first ring.

“Dean?”

“Bobby,” he said with relief, his chest flooding with warmth as he heard the voice of his fatherly uncle.

“Dean, where are ya boy? I’ve been combing the city lookin' for your freckled ass.”

“Bobby, you’re not gonna believe this.”

“Try me.”

“I’ve been… I was…” fuck. This was going to be harder then he’d initially thought. He searched for the words but none could be found.

“Dean?” inquired Bobby, likely confused by the silence gap.

“Jeff,” he answered.

“What about him?”

“He was… he…” Dean’s entire body was tense and try though he may – no further words could be forced out.

“Dean, are you alright son?”

“No,” he gasped, crumbling again, “Can you come for me?” he begged in a cracking voice.

“Of course. Where are you?”

“Charlotte Street, south of 39th. It’s a big brick house.” Jeff had told him he lived near Hospital Hill. It would have been more honest to say Hyde Park. But Dean couldn’t even guess at Jeff’s reasons for saying and doing the things he did.

“You can’t tell me the house number?”

“Bobby,” said Dean, “Hang on okay.” He moved to the living room, purposefully not looking at the chair. He stepped to what was likely the front window and peeled back a hole in the newspaper. “The house across the street is 3912,” he said, “and Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you bring me some clothes?”

Bobby seemed to miss a beat but then said, “Yeah kid, you need anything else?”

“No, just come in careful. It’s a crime scene.”

“Balls!” barked Bobby.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm himself.

“Did you call the cops yet?” Bobby asked.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Well don’t. I’m on my way kid. Hang tight.”

Dean ended the call and looked back at the kitchen. It felt lonely to be so far from the man who’d saved him. Suddenly, he worried for the body in the basement. He was gripped by an illogical desire to move to the top of the stairs and check to be sure the corpse was still where they’d left it. Across the empty expanse of plastic covered floor, the blue eyed man was staring at him. He wanted to walk to him, but his feet weren’t cooperating and it took a disproportionate amount of time to start moving and close the space between them.

“What’s your name?” Dean asked him.

“I’m Cas.”

“I’m Dean.”

“Are we friends Dean?” the man asked.

Dean found himself wondering if the man had all his marbles. “Yeah Cas, we can be friends.” He was running out of strength fast, especially his legs. They were shaky and so were his hands.

Dean wanted to talk to the man, he did. His heart was aching to reach out, but he could think of no words to say. He felt compelled to express gratitude beyond the shallow thank you he’d gasped out in the basement. But he could think of nothing. He watched quietly, leaning back on the wall as Cas ate French fries. He kept one eye towards the dining room, still fearing that somehow, a man whose neck had been violently sliced with a garrote wire was going to manage to come back to life and sneak up on them.

All the while Cas was eating, he divided his attention between his food and Dean. They didn’t talk, but their eyes met often and Dean could feel a certain connection there. It was as if Cas wanted to know him as much as he wanted to know Cas. But, with neither of them capable of the social graces required for that, they settled for watching each other instead.

Cas ate every last fry, even the little nubs and the cold strays from the bottom of the brown bag. Setting the mess aside, Cas asked Dean, “How did you come to be in this place?”

“You mean this house?”

Cas nodded.

Dean thought about it… tried to put it in the simplest way possible. “I was tricked into coming here.”

“And you’ve been here since yesterday?”

“Yep.”

“You may leave now that you’re free of the chains.”

“My car isn’t here. And I think I need to call the cops. But I’m not sure yet. I’m waiting for my uncle… no my father. I’m waiting for my father to get here. He’ll know what to do.”

“How much time will pass before he arrives?”

Dean glanced at his phone, “Probably at least ten more minutes.”

“I must go. This is the longest I’ve ever stayed after killing.”

Dean’s mind slowed that down, heard it like a spinning record that was being dragged with the weight of a finger pressing down. Distorted.

“What do you mean, after killing?”

“The Dark downstairs. I’ve killed him. It doesn’t feel right to stay. I’ll check on him tomorrow. Make sure he’s been found. But I can’t stay much longer now.”

“Stay,” Dean choked out, meaning it as a question but hearing it come out as an order. “Stay,” he tried again, using his eyes to communicate what his mouth didn’t seem capable of admitting. That he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone in this house. Not for one second.

Cas nodded, seeming willing to do whatever Dean wanted, even if he’d not been able to ask for it nicely. They sat there like that for quite a while, just watching each other. Breathing. Watching. It had grown so still and peaceful that when Dean’s phone went off, it startled him. He jumped and dropped it to the ground. He grimaced as he began to try and bend to retrieve it. Cas moved quickly, picking it up from the floor at Dean’s feet and handing it to him.

“Bobby,” said Dean into the phone.

“We’re here. Front or back?”

“Back, I guess,” answered Dean, stepping towards the door to the garage. He held his phone to his ear as he moved out into the dark and looked around for a button to raise the garage door. Finding it by feel, he pressed. As the door came up, he saw Bobby’s ’71 Chevelle idling in the alley. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Bobby wasn’t alone. But he was. And he was immediately ashamed too. He knew what he must look like, standing here covered in dried blood and wrapped up in a filthy, bloody trench coat and nothing else.

Dean wanted to shrink up and crawl inside himself as he watched Sam step around the back of the car and see Dean’s condition. The pained look on his brother's face was one he hoped to never see again. Bobby had slid out of the driver’s seat and Rufus had slid into his place behind the wheel. As soon as Bobby pulled the duffle from the backseat, Rufus put the car in drive and left them.

Dean waited until Bobby and Sam were inside and then clicked the garage door button. As it closed, it plunged them into darkness. Sam quickened his pace as he neared and then gently pulled Dean into a hug. Finally, finally he found himself believing that he’d be okay.

“S’good to see ya boy,” said Bobby, chin firmly locked against the quiver of emotion he’d let slip.

There was a different vibe to the house now that Bobby was walking in it with him. There was an air of confidence to the man. The body in the basement no longer felt like a threat. But the air was full of all the things that Dean was glad Bobby wasn’t saying.

“Who’s this?” barked Bobby gruffly when he came face to face with Cas.

“This is Cas,” said Dean, stepping between his surrogate father and his hero/angel. “He’s my friend,” Dean said firmly, giving Cas a nod of assurance and seeing the man’s lips quirk into a happy grin when he said the word, “friend.”

“Alright then,” said Bobby, “Sam, you stay with your brother and his ‘friend’. I’m goin out front to let Rufus in.”

“Where’d he go?” asked Sam, eyes wide and curious.

“To park the car somewhere,” Bobby said as he left the kitchen.

“Cas,” said Dean, “This is my brother Sam.”

Cas looked Sam up and down like he wasn’t sure what to make of him. But after an awkward moment, he reached forward and shook hands with Sam. The handshake was bit off… as though Cas had only ever seen that done on television and had wanted to try it.

“What happened Dean?” asked his brother.

“It’s a long story, Sammy. I’ll tell ya later. I’m tired right now. Did you guys bring me some clothes?”

“Yeah, right here,” he said, pulling Bobby’s discarded duffle up from the floor. Dean stepped carefully into the jeans, an old pair that had he hadn’t liked enough to pack when he’d moved out years ago. He pulled them up, under the trench coat and then fished into the bag again, also finding a t-shirt and flannel of Bobby’s. Dean handed Cas back his trench and said thanks again.

The moment he had his coat back, Cas was backing up towards the door. “Wait,” said Dean, reaching his hand out and pleading with his eyes, “Don’t go Cas.”

For just a second, it felt like Cas could see how much Dean wanted him to stay and was going to. But no, he cast a remorseful look at Dean and stepped out the door to the garage. Dean was stunned by the ache of loneliness that set in as the man exited. He looked over at Sam and then both of them turned their attention to Bobby and Rufus who’d just entered.

“Where’s he goin'?” barked Bobby roughly, referring to Cas.

“I-I don’t know,” Dean admitted.

Dean watched Rufus and Bobby exchange a look. Rufus turned and left just as quickly as he entered, muttering as he headed back towards the front door.

Bobby looked at Dean and said, “I gotta know everything.”

Dean nodded then. He left Sammy in the kitchen and walked with Bobby into the dining room where the chair was still anchored. In hushed tones, he told about the trip from the bar, the stop at the gas station, coming in through the garage and seeing the chair. He didn’t elaborate on the details of what had enticed him to sit in that chair, only saying that he’d been tricked.

They were both looking at it as he told about the tinsnips and then he showed Bobby his finger.

“Balls!” Bobby exclaimed again.

Dean nodded and said he’d been gagged but didn’t go into detail. He told about the Heretics fork and Bobby took a quick second to examine his neck.

“Damn, son, it looks like a damn vamp had at ya.”

Dean walked him through being chloroformed, likely to make it easier for the killer to move him without resistance. He gestured down the stairs to show where he’d been taken, but stopped and said, “I can’t go back down, Bobby. I can’t.”

“S’fine son. You go back and wait with Sammy. I’ll be quick as I can.”

Sam didn’t say much. He just looked at Dean with those puppy dog eyes and said, “What happened Dean?”

“What did you see?” he asked in response.

“See?”

“Yeah, see. What did you see?”

“I didn’t see anything Dean. Should I have?”

“Well, yeah Sammy,” said Dean, feeling himself starting to break apart, “I was calling for you… screaming for you to hear me… I told you what street I was on… I thought you’d dream it or whatever… have one of your visions.”

“M’sorry Dean. I didn’t see anything.”

“Nothing? Not one word of that came through? What the fuck, Sammy? We drive all over kingdom come to save people you’ve never fucking met – but me, your brother, you got nothing? I was in in HELL and you weren’t even looking for me?”

“Dean,” pleaded Sam, “I’m sorry. I can’t control it. I didn’t know. If I had known I would’ve come. I’m sorry…”

“S’okay Sammy,” he said, pulling his brother into another hug, “Don’t you worry about it. Not one bit. But,” Dean added as he pulled back, “I think we need a refund on that psychic gift of yours; cause this one’s defective.” He rustled Sammy’s hair and grinned at his brother, working hard to show that he was fine and that things between them were fine despite his outburst.

Bobby took a long time downstairs and when he returned to the kitchen he herded the boys out the back. They walked down the alley and out onto the street where the Chevelle was waiting. Just as Dean was easing himself into the passenger seat, there was a massive explosion from behind them.

Dean looked toward the noise and saw a huge plume of smoke mushrooming, thick and black and churning against the pale blue sky. Dean’s eyes flicked to Bobby’s.

“Wow,” said Bobby flatly, “Looks like somebody left the gas on.”

The next few hours were challenging for Dean. He felt like he was in a vacuum. Like he was compressed somehow and seeing things differently than everyone else. It was almost like being separated from the rest of the world by a thin film of plastic and on the other side was the real world.

They went to the hospital. It was horrible. He was examined and pummeled with questions. He was given shots against infections and STD’s. He was x-rayed and bandaged. At least he was given a private place to shower. They even offered him scrubs if he wanted to put on something clean after. He declined to file a police report several times and had trouble being nice to everyone… or even decent. He knew they were only trying to help him but it didn’t matter. He hated the entire ordeal as much as he hated that it was necessary.

He left with his hand bandaged and a card for a follow up appointment at a clinic for his finger. He also had been given stool softeners, pain killers and a fistful of resources for rape victims.  He was meant to keep ice on his jaw and call if his anal bleeding didn’t stop within a few days or got worse. The ride back to Bobby’s was a very quiet one. When they got there, Ellen had been cooking. Probably her way of comforting. Ellen wasn’t a big hugger, and she wasn’t a sweet talker either. She was a Harley riding, whisky swigging, no nonsense woman. And Dean had to admit, he loved her for it. It was great to have at least one person that wasn’t looking at him with either curiosity or pity.

And, tucking in a plate of her roast beef and potatoes was like getting a hug that lasted for hours, warm in his tummy.

“Where’d Rufus go?” Dean asked, only now realizing that he as missing.

“He’s tailin' your friend Cas.”

“Tailing?”

“Watchin'.”

Dean nodded, unsure what to make of it. Did they suspect Cas? Dean had thought it would be obvious that Cas was the hero, but perhaps he needed to give his family more details than he had.

“I’m tired,” he said, pushing himself back from the table and planning to head to his old room to crash. Bobby was giving him a look.

“What?” Dean responded.

“Well, I was gonna take you to get your car. If you left it at the bar all last night, it’ll likely be towed by tomorrow morning.”

Dean gave a shrug indicating he didn’t care. Because he didn’t. He cared for nothing right now but to sleep.

“Boy, your Daddy’d have a fit if he knew you’d left that car just sittin'…”

Dean interrupted Bobby loudly, “He ain't my Daddy, Bobby. Never was. If I’ve got a daddy at all… it’s you.” With that he turned and headed for the bathroom. He took a piss and then stood looking in the mirror for a long time. He was uncertain of what was holding his attention there, but his stare didn’t break until there was a knock on the door.

With the sharp sound having broken the spell, he took his pills and flicked off the lights on the way out.

“What?” said Dean absently, noticing the look on Bobby’s face.

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” Bobby barked, “Let’s go.”

“Bobby, I’m not up for it.”

“Well, get up for it. C’mon.”

Dean didn’t argue further. He followed along behind Bobby. As they passed through the dining room, Dean caught a glimpse of Sammy and Ellen clearing the table. He nodded to Sam and Sam nodded back.

When they climbed into the car, Bobby looked over at Dean and Dean realized that this was the first time they’d really been alone since his rescue.

“I’m sorry for what’s happened to ya,” said Bobby.

“Shit happens,” said Dean roughly, hoping his statement would imply the end of the conversation.

“Doesn’t have to,” retorted Bobby, “Ya gotta take better care, boy. Ya got people. People who can’t lose ya, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, sit back and shut up cause I’ve got a bedtime story for ya.”

Dean smiled and leaned back in his seat as Bobby swung the car around and rolled down the drive.

“You’re as much my boy as you wanna be. You know that right?”

“Yeah Bobby, thanks.”

“Yeah. Well, there’s things you ain't been told. And after what you said tonight, I think it’s time to fill you in.”

Dean waited silently, resting his head on the seat and letting the rumble of the motor settle his nerves.

“Your Daddy,” began Bobby, “wasn’t in the corps. At least now when you were a kid. Not like we toldja.”

Dean turned toward Bobby, watching his second father in the glow of the dash lights. He didn’t speak. He knew by the way Bobby had said, “bedtime story” that this was meant to be a one-sided conversation. A narration.

“He was an agent,” said Bobby, “Worked deep cover. That’s where he was when he wasn’t home. Not on a base somewhere training or doing missions. He was working in the field in top secret. Me and your Daddy and Rufus. That’s how we all know each other.

“Now, and this is important, your mother wasn’t who you thought either. She was working in a government lab when she met your father. Her dad was a superior of ours,” Bobby started laughing as he explained, eyes shining in the lowlight but focused forward and not looking at Dean as he continued, “Oh, your Grandpa hated your Daddy!”

Dean found himself smiling at that, the air in the car lighter now that they were talking of something other than Dean’s ordeal.

“Now, when you kids were born, your Mother stepped away from her work. But they didn’t like that over at the lab. They couldn’t go on without her. She was the backbone of their research. They wanted her back. Bad. So they injected Sammy with something behind her back. She’d been developing a couple different things in her time there and they never told her what they’d put into him. Only that the results of her work would keep her baby well. You can imagine how this was for your Dad. It was like acid in his mouth. He wanted to shoot up that lab. He had all kinds of plans for how to take these guys down… torture them into giving up the info on what Sammy’d been injected with. All kinds of crazy stunts.”

“Fuck, Bobby!” interrupted Dean, “Are you fucking for real with this shit?”

“I am. And you know your old man, how he is, what do you think he was doin', huh? Driving himself insane is what he was doing.”

“Bobby…”

“I know son. But there’s more you need to know. These agencies… they’re all hush hush and nobody even knows who’s runnin' what. It’s a mind fuck of the highest order. But I’ll tell you this… we knew… your Daddy and me and Rufus… we knew that if you went high enough up the chain of command at the lab and at the field office… eventually you’d get to the same person. And you’re daddy was dead set on goin' after that person. Especially after your Mother’s death.”

“Because they killed her,” supplied Dean, realizing how much sense that made.

“Yeah, they killed her,” admitted Bobby.

“Jesus,” said Dean, overloaded, “Why’d they do it? She was jumping through their hoops. She was working the lab.”

“We’re not sure. I have my suspicions though, that someone got wind of one of your father’s ambitious schemes to expose the big conspiracy and just decided to nip that shit in the bud. Or, more likely, they caught her doing something she shouldn’t have been. Your mama was very kind and very quiet. But she was wicked smart. To smart to tell anyone, even her husband, if she had a plan to save Sammy or expose her superiors. So it could be that she was killed because she was working her own angle and got found out. I doubt we’re ever really gonna know.”

The streets were largely empty as they drove and Dean remained silent as he took in all this new information.

“Shortly after she died, we were let go. All three of us,” said Bobby. “They said it was early retirement. We figured it was just easier to get rid of us that way than to waste the money to set up more ‘accidents.’ But without our badges and our clearances and access to files and resources, we couldn’t investigate anymore. Not really. So we decided to let it go.

Everybody but your old man. Rufus, man, Rufus was just shot out. All he wanted was to get some rent-a-cop security job and read the paper all day… he just wanted to take it easy. Me? I wanted to have kids. You know, my wife had always wanted them. And she’d been so patient, waiting for me to be ready. It was just time. But you know how that worked out. Lost her to cancer not even a year later. Wound up with a big empty house… no wife… no kids… no job. Just running the scrap yard and collecting empty whisky bottles.”

“I’m sorry Bobby,” said Dean, staring out his window as they sat at a red light.

“I know son. But I wanted you to understand about your father. It aint right to hate him the way you do. He wasn’t just obsessed with finding his wife’s killer. He didn’t just drag you boys out on the road with him out of selfishness. He did it because he was worried they’d come after Sam. He was paranoid that they’d just snatch him up and the world would just think he was another missing kid on a milk carton while he lived out the rest of his life in a cage somewhere... injected and tested like a lab rat. He didn’t want to lose your brother, they’d already gotten your mamma.”

“Fuck,” cursed Dean, “Bobby, I’m sorry.”

“Me too kid, me too.”

“I always thought you took us in because you thought Dad wasn’t raising us right.”

“I did. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand where he was coming from. You can’t possibly understand. You haven’t had to see the things we’ve seen, or do the things we’ve done. That kind of work changes a man, Dean, aint no way ‘round it. Anyway, one day, the lab closed down. Just like that. They laid off all the low level workers, the clerks and secretaries and such. The big wigs packed up their shit and disappeared. One the lab was shut down, I knew it was safe to bring you boys in. That’s when you moved in with me.”

“That’s strange,” commented Dean, “That they’d just pack it in like that… shut everything down.”

“No, it’s really not. That’s the nature of the government beast. Every time the budget changes or the leadership changes, the projects change. That’s just the way it goes. Today’s national security is tomorrow’s paper shredding party. The way I figure it, they either successfully made what they were trying to make, or they decided to give up.”

“Why’s dad still looking? If the lab is gone and it’s over, why is he still out there and searching for a killer he’ll never find?”

“It’s over for them,” agreed Bobby, “But it ain't over for John.”

Just then Bobby’s phone rang.

“Speak of the devil,” said Bobby, “That’s him. I called him when I called Rufus.”

Immediately, Dean was reaching for the phone, trying to keep Bobby from answering it.

“No, Bobby no.”

“What?”

“You can’t tell him. Just let it go to voicemail. He can’t know.”

“He should know what’s happened to you Dean. You’ve been though something… and sometimes a man needs his father. I saw that basement Dean. I think you’re gonna need your father.”

“Bobby no. He’s not okay with me being gay. Won’t even talk to me. What’s he gonna think when he finds out I was trolling for ass on a dating app? That I let myself get cuffed? Or that I had to be rescued from a guy was fucking SMALLER than me! You know I’m right about this,” he pleaded, “Dad can’t know.”

Dean’s heart was beating wildly as he watched Bobby deliberate. They turned at the next light, pulling up into the parking lot of the bar and sliding into a space next to the Impala. The phone was silent now on the seat between them, displaying a missed call notification.

“Tell you what,” said Bobby thoughtfully, “I won’t tell him anything. I’ll let you do that on your own time. But you need somebody to help you. I’ll only keep this secret if you promise to go to counseling. Pick any program you want from those pamphlets the hospital gave you. Whatever time off you need from the shop, you’ve got it. But you have to go. Or I’m gonna bring your Daddy in on this. Okay?”

“Okay,” nodded Dean firmly. “Head shrinker it is.”

“Great. Now get outta my car,” said Bobby, giving Dean’s shoulder a loving thump. “And hey,” called Bobby, bringing Dean back, “I told you all that for a reason. I wanted you to know the truth so you could see that your daddy loves you. Your brother too. More than you think. He may need some time on this gay thing. It was different when we grew up… a different way of thinkin' back then. But he loves you more than life, boy. He’ll come around.”

“Thanks Bobby,” smiled Dean, turning away and towards the Impala. He was grateful that Bobby stayed while he got into his baby and started her up. He drove silently, not even switching on the radio. He had lots to think about.

By the time he was back at Bobby’s he was so exhausted he could barely stand. He walked in and saw only Sam in the living room, so he went there instead of to his old bedroom. “Whatcha workin on?”

“Chemistry.”

“Sounds awesome,” said Dean sarcastically, walking towards Bobby’s desk where the whiskey bottle stood. He took a long swig and then carried the bottle back to the couch with him, carefully easing his body into a sitting position next to Sam. They didn’t say much, Sam working quietly and Dean letting all this new information roll around in his head. It made sense and the more he thought about it, the more he could start to see his father the way Bobby saw him.

“You done with that?” asked Bobby when he walked in the room, looking at the whiskey bottle in Dean’s hands.

“I’m in no condition to be sober,” replied Dean.

“I hear ya,” agreed Bobby, sitting down and dropping his arm around Dean’s shoulder for moment. He reached for the bottle and took a long pull before giving it back to Dean. “I’ll see you boys in the morning,” said Bobby, patting Dean’s shoulder as he withdrew his arm.

“G’night Bobby,” the brothers said in unison.

“How much more of that you got?” Dean asked, referring to Sam’s homework.

“Dean, it’s only the first week of school. I finished my only assignment half an hour ago. I’m just going over the chapter we’ve covered to make sure there’s nothing I don’t understand.”

“Jeez Sammy, I never studied like you do. Not once. Never did a scrap more than I had to… and usually not even that much.”

He tipped the bottle back again as he listened to Sammy’s reply, letting the alcohol wash over him to loosen his body and cloud his mind. It was mixing nicely with his pain killers.

“Well, you knew what you liked, right Dean? The cars, the shop. What’s the point of wasting your time with studying things that you know you don’t want to learn, right?”

“Mhmm,” Dean agreed as he took another swig.

“I mean,” clarified Sam, “You paid attention to the things you care about. You soaked up everything Bobby taught you about cars. You worked hard at fixing and restoring them. And just like you don’t know anything about Chemistry, I don’t know shit about cars. I can’t fix them, hell, I can barely drive.”

Dean took another drink, his head was getting heavy now as he listened to Sam reassure him of his life choices.

“I guess what I’m saying is, we both have different interests and skills. But…”

“Sam,” interrupted Dean, “I don’t need a pep talk okay?”

“Okay Dean.”

Another drink.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“What was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“You know… you said you were in Hell…”

“Hell?”

“Yeah, that’s what you said to me when we came for you today. You said you were in Hell and I wasn’t even looking for you.”

“You don’t wanna know, Sammy.”

“Dean, I just…”

“Sammy. You don’t wanna know. And I’m not gonna talk about it. I’m not. I – I can’t. Okay?”

“Okay, you don’t have to. But you’ll talk to someone, right? You’re counselor? Your friends? Someone?”

“Yeah. Bobby’s makin' me see a shrink,” answered Dean, tipping up the bottle again.

He was warm all over now, the initial burn in his throat from the whiskey having slowly spread out to pleasantly numb him. It was bliss to feel himself sinking down into the couch, finally able to fully relax. From the moment Cas had laid that coat over him, Dean’s body had been ready to shut down. He’d been aching with fatigue for hours as he was poked and prodded at the ER and then put through an emotional ringer with Bobby in the car. But now, at last, he was free to rest - ensconced in the safest place he’d ever known and surrounded by people who loved him.

Finding out that his family’s life had been far more complicated than he’d previously thought had been an overload. But he was glad to know. Because it meant something to him – knowing that his father’s actions had been more the result of love than neglect. The man had still made some questionable choices. He’d still been far too absent from his boy’s lives. But knowing he’d been trying to protect Sammy as he’d drug them around the country and raised them in shitty hotel rooms made it an easier pill to swallow somehow. It also opened up a new can of worms. But, pliant from alcohol, it was easy to tell his sluggish mind that he’d think about that later. Another day, when he was stronger, he’d return to this line of thinking and ponder what it meant for Sam and his visions.

Dean barely noticed the gentle hands that lifted the whiskey bottle from his. And he didn’t notice being moved from the couch to his bed until he felt his shoes being pulled off for him. He rolled over and breathed deeply as he took in the scent of clean linens and the comfort of having a pillow under his head.

 

 

 

Cas leaned back against Tessa’s tombstone. It wasn’t really hers, bearing the name of someone who’d been dead for decades. But he thought of it as hers, knowing she would have liked it and needing to give her something – even if it was only in his mind.

He was proud of himself for moving into new territory and for how quickly he’d adapted to the changes and challenges it had presented. He liked hunting in this new area. And, today, he’d done something he’d never done before. He’d saved someone.

Truth be told, he saved people all the time. Every time he killed a Dark, he saved all the people that Dark would have murdered or raped or ruined in some way. But this time, this time he got to actually _see_ the life he’d saved. And sweeter still? It was a Bright that he’d rescued!

If Darks were the pestilence of this world, than Brights must be its benefactors. He felt it, inside, whenever he was near one. Brights are warm. Not in the way that the sun is warm, but in a way that fills you with a light and buoyant feeling… an elation. It had been wonderful to be so near to one for so long. The ever present ache in his chest was abated and his eyes couldn’t drink in enough of the sight… the soft glow that lit up the skin and made the eyes shiny and bright. They’d been such a sight, those eyes. Green. The color of life and living things… of nature.

Not only had Cas been enthralled to be in the presence of this Bright, soaking up the good feelings that radiated from him, but he’d been deemed a friend. Cas had made many friends since he’d awakened, but as he closed his eyes to sleep that night, he knew that none had mattered so much as this one. In one day, he’d killed a Dark and saved a Bright and made a friend. The joy of it all was too much. This was the best day he could remember having had. In all his time since waking, this was the happiest he’d ever felt.

 

 

 

Dean had to piss. Badly. But he couldn’t open his eyes. If he opened his eyes, Jeffrey would see it. It would be playtime. His body was buckling from the cramping in his muscles… his limbs protesting having to be locked in the same position for hour after hour after hour… his abdomen clenching violently to hold back the stream of urine that it needed to dispel.

As he rocked his hips to try and hold it back, he feared that his abortive movements might jostle his chains and signal to his captor that he was awake.

His ears pricked, searching the silence for a footfall on the stairs. When he thought he heard one, he lost his composure and accidently pissed himself again. He heard another footfall and felt the creeping dread as it rose up higher in his chest. He could feel the urge to scream and summoned a deep breath. He knew he couldn’t scream with a gag in his mouth, but for some reason, a piercing cry filled the room.

Dean shot up, limbs flailing to get under himself and into a defensive position. That’s when the light came on. The dark disappeared and he realized he was in his room at Bobby’s. His breathing and heart rate began to slow as reality returned to him. It was over. He was free. Jeffrey was dead. Sam’s face hovered in the door way, his hand still frozen to the light switch. He was gaping at Dean.

He’d had a nightmare, he knew that now. He also realized that he’d likely been screaming out loud. He’d probably woken everyone in the house. And with Sam’s room the closest, by far, it was his brother who’d come running. And it was his little brother who now witnessed that, not only had he been screaming in his sleep… but he’d wet the bed. Like a six year old.

“Dean,” said his brother, tentatively stepping in, “Do you want to…”

“No.”

“It’s just… sometimes it helps to talk about a scary dream…. I would know.”

“I’m not gonna talk about it with you.”

“Okay Dean. Do you want me to come in? Sleep in here? We don’t have to talk.”

“I’ll be fine Sammy. Just go back to bed okay?” Dean asked, trying to hide his nocturnal emissions with the blankets, “Just… maybe leave the light on?”

Sam dipped his head in submission, turning back towards the hall. Dean slid out of the bed and began pulling off his sheets. As he bundled them into his arms and turned to the hamper, Sam returned. His baby brother didn’t make eye contact as he stepped in and laid a fresh set of sheets on Dean’s dresser. The boy turned to leave, clearly not wanting Dean to have to acknowledge. But he did anyway, because he loved his baby brother so very much. Despite his need to posture, to minimize what the kid had just witnessed, Dean said a soft, “Thanks Sam,” to his brother's back as he left.

In the interest of drying his mattress the best he could, Dean turned on the ceiling fan and let it run while he moved to the bathroom. The depth of fear he’d felt in this dream had been beyond any nightmare he’d ever had before. It had been so very real… like he was still trapped in that basement. His body was still cold from it… the imagined fear of his dream seeping into real life despite the bright light and presence of family. It made him feel very isolated, to be back in the safest place he could imagine but still be ruled by fear.

He took a hot shower, letting the water wash away the sticky pee that was left between his legs. Looking down at his feet, he noticed the water was pink. He looked over his body to try and see where the blood might be coming from. His hand was bandaged and he’d been keeping it out of the water. The puncture wounds on his neck weren’t bleeding or he’d be seeing blood run down his chest. It must be from my ass, he thought.

Though it was painful, he stepped forward and pulled his cheeks apart, letting the water slide down and rinse the area. He stood like that for a while until the water at his feet ran clear. Then he stepped out of the shower and toweled off, putting on an old pair of sweats from the dresser – his high school logo on the hip. He felt significantly better now. Exercising his ability to care for himself had helped a great deal… it was like reasserting control over his body in some small way. He popped two more of his pain pills and proceeded to put clean sheets on his bed.

Knowing he’d never be able to sleep until the pills kicked in and made him groggy, he chased off the images of his captivity with a magazine from his nightstand. An extremely old issue of Road and Track. He was more looking at the pictures than reading. As he flipped pages, he found himself thinking about Cas. He smiled a bit just remembering the way he’d inhaled that burger. The smile faded though, as Dean’s mind supplied the reason. No food. Nothing but crackers for days and days. The guy was hungry. Probably hungrier than Dean had ever been before.

He’d been dirty too. His face, his hands, his clothes. A squeezing sensation in his chest set in as Dean wondered where Cas was right now. He clearly had nowhere to go. He was homeless – was he on a park bench? Under an overpass?

It had felt so wonderful to be able to shower when he’d needed to just now. What about Cas? The guy had needed a shower. Did he get one tonight? It was doubtful. Dean knew that. He also knew there was no way that Cas had enjoyed a belly full of roast beef and potatoes for dinner.

Cas needed so many things. But what had he asked of Dean? Friendship.

A tear rolled down his cheek as his mind replayed the man’s gravelly voice again, “Are we friends, Dean?”

He wasn’t going back to sleep. He knew that now. He put feet on the floor and walked purposefully down the hall, knocking lightly on the door to the master bedroom.

“Yeah?” answered Bobby.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, boy, come on in.”

As he opened the door and pushed in, he saw that the bedside lamp was already on and their pillows were stacked up behind them. They’d clearly been awake when he’d knocked, probably talking about him.

“What’s on your mind?” asked Bobby, inviting Dean to talk without using the work ‘talk’.

“Is Rufus still on Cas?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are they?”

“Cemetery over at Penn Valley Park.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Rufus checked in around eleven. Said that Cas had just been walking since he left the scene. He walked til the sun went down and then went into the cemetery. He fell asleep against a tombstone and hasn’t moved since.”

“What’s Rufus doing?”

“He’s hiding out nearby in a group of trees. I’m s’posed to relieve him in the mornin' after I stop at the shop.”

“Well, don’t worry about it,” said Dean, turning to leave.

“Why not?”

“Cause he’ll be with me,” said Dean firmly as he walked out the door.

Bobby and Ellen both pushed out of bed and followed him down the hall.

“What do you mean?” asked Bobby gruffly, “You goin' out there? You gonna go pick him up like he's a stray dog?”

“Why not?” questioned Dean, stopping at his doorway and turning to face them, “It ain't right to leave him out there. He saved me Bobby, like, all the way. SAVED. ME. I can’t just curl up in my bed and rest easy while he’s sleeping in a goddam cemetery. I can’t. I won’t.”

“Sweetie,” said Ellen, reaching for him, “The fact that he’s sleeping in a cemetery should be a red flag. There’s all kinds of places he could go. There’s shelters… there’s… you have to understand, Dean, he’s probably not all there. He could be a schizophrenic or an addict. Dean, honey,” she implored, “he could be dangerous.”

“He’s had his chance at me,” challenged Dean, holding his chin high and clenching it, willing himself not to break. Two sets of loving eyes blinked back at him, both uncertain.

“He could have done anything he wanted when he found me. But ya know what he did?”

Ellen’s mouth dropped open, like she meant to speak. But nothing came out.

“I’ll tell you what he did,” said Dean, stepping closer to them, “He covered me…” it was impossible to hold his face together when he said the words, it crumbled and tears started again, “He covered me….” He choked out again, stuck on that phrase and unable to move past it. Dean was tired of crying, so tired of it. But the tears fell and his throat tightened painfully as he tried to hold them back. He felt Ellen’s arms around him and sank into them, both of them sliding to the floor in a pile.

“He covered me up,” gurgled Dean again, still repeating, “He covered me.”

“Okay sweetie,” she relented as she soothed him. “Okay, okay.”

It felt good to be held. When Ellen’s fingers swiped his tears from his cheeks he looked up at her, loving her so damn much. He hugged her fiercely before finally working to get to his feet and pulling her up with him. Bobby wasn’t looking at him, he was watching his wife.

“Can you at least wait til morning?” Bobby asked.

“No,” said Dean firmly, pulling himself together, “No. I won’t rest until he’s with me.”

.


	6. Personal Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Ravenwolf36 for editing ;)

 

Dean navigated his Baby through the empty streets, a contented feeling in his chest. It was strange how making the decision to go get Cas seemed to bring him peace when nothing else had. He’d seen to his physical needs, been comforted by his family, he’d even self-medicated with pain killers and alcohol. But nothing had afforded him the serenity that had followed his declaration that he’d do nothing else without his new ‘friend’. He even smiled to himself as he remembered the funny way that the man had asked him if they were friends… the way a kindergartener would ask it.

Bobby, though clearly not happy about Dean’s midnight run across town, had volunteered to follow him. Dean had rolled his eyes and acted put out with the gesture… not wanting his uncle to know how scared he really was to leave the security of home and go out into the dark alone.

When they pulled up on the street near the cemetery entrance, they parked their cars nose to tail. Both kept silent as they walked the winding path side-by-side. As they crested a small rise near the west end of the property, Rufus stepped out onto the path. The three acknowledged each other with a simple nod.

Rufus turned his attention to Dean and said, “You see that big mausoleum over there?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s about twenty paces on the other side of it. Medium sized tombstone with a Celtic cross on top. He’s leaning against it. Been asleep about four hours.”

Dean nodded appreciation and turned to Bobby, also giving him a nod of thanks before moving off the path and into the darkness. Behind him, he was sure that the men were whispering about him – possibly even sharing a laugh at the absurdity of his actions. But, he thought, it was far better to have them laughing at him than pitying him.

 

 

 

Cas had been sleeping, uncomfortable but fulfilled, with the happiness of the day still lingering. The moon had been beautiful to watch as he’d drifted off to sleep, gathering clouds passing over it slowly. But now, his eyes popped open and his body tensed. He’d heard a noise that stood out from the background of summer insects humming and the breeze whispering in the trees. He’d heard footfalls.

Straining his ears into the dark around him, he didn’t react until he heard the noise again. Then he leapt to his feet and turned to face whatever was coming up behind him. His eyes needed a moment to adjust as a light came cutting through the darkness. He blinked, his mind stunned by the steady approach of a Bright. As it drew closer, its human features became discernable, the soft glow of skin and the delicate lines of a face. He smiled when he saw it was his new friend.

“Hello Dean,” he said into the darkness while the man was still several paces away.

“Hey Cas,” came the man’s rough voice, “Nice night huh?”

“It is,” he agreed, stepping out around Tessa’s stone and meeting Dean face-to-face.

“Is this where you sleep Cas?” Dean asked him as he came to a stop.

“Not always. But for tonight, yes.”

“Can I join you?”

“Yes,” he smiled, glad for the company. The two sank down into the damp grass together a few feet apart. Cas watched as Dean shot a glance over his shoulder and followed the direction of his gaze to the silhouette of two men on the path. One of them was smoking, and both appeared to be talking though it was impossible to hear them from this distance.

“Did they arrive with you?”Cas asked him.

“Bobby did,” Dean nodded, “Rufus has been here with you all night.”

“He has?”

“Yeah, Cas. Bobby’s real protective of me… and he didn’t really know anything about you. So he sent Rufus to follow you.”

“It is good to see you Dean,” Cas admitted, finding he didn’t care about the details of the other men nearly as much as he cared that Dean had come to see him. “I have many friends, but I rarely see any of them a second time.”

“I came because I wanted to ask you somethin' Cas.”

“Ask.”

“Would you come back with me? To my house?”

“You want me to accompany you to your dwelling?”

“Yeah Cas, I do.”

“Are you in need of someone to watch over you?”Cas asked, unable to fathom any other reason for the invitation.

Dean began laughing then. The sound of it was soft, coming from deep in the man’s throat. Cas could see his chest moving with it and watched the man point his finger towards the lingering men on the path as he said, “Those two seem to think I do.”

“I will go with you then,” he nodded, thrilled at the thought of spending more time in the presence of his friend.

“Are you ready to come with me now?” Dean asked him.

“Yes Dean,” he acknowledged as he got to his feet. Dean seemed to need assistance getting up from the ground so Cas extended his hand. As always, even being near to a bright filled him with good sensations. But this one… this green eyed Bright had an additional effect on him that others did not. He placed his hand on his chest now as he enjoyed it… the complete lack of any ache from behind his rib cage.

Their hands clasped tightly as he pulled Dean up from the ground and Cas noticed that Dean didn’t let go right away, allowing their hands to stay locked together for a step before pulling away. His heart made a strange stuttering motion in his chest as it happened. The feel of it was foreign, though not wholly unpleasant.

“Guys,” said Dean as they approached the men on the path, “This is my friend Cas. He’s gonna be stayin' with me for a while.”

Cas watched carefully as the two men turned to face them and then stepped forward one at a time to do a handshake with him. It was hard to hold back his smile, pleased as he was to be able to perform this social gesture again. He knew it inferred respect.

“You two followin' us home?” Dean asked them.

“I suppose not,” nodded Bobby, the one Cas recognized.

“It’s past my bedtime,” said the other man; it seemed an odd statement but the others laughed at it. Cas could only stare at the light pattern that glowed within Dean.

Dean turned then, and Cas followed. He stepped along beside his friend, walking on the path with him all the way to the gate. Just outside the fence, Dean made a gesture to a vehicle. Cas climbed in and found himself enjoying the scent of the interior of the car. It was similar to nothing he’d ever smelled before. As Dean started up the engine, Cas found himself wondering how far from his hunting grounds he was about to be taken.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“How far away is your house?”

“At this hour? Like maybe 15 minutes.”

“Alright,” he nodded as he leaned back on the seat. “What are we going to do when we get there?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Dean answered, “I’m gonna need to sleep some. At least a little. And you’re probably gonna need a shower and maybe some food. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” he answered, “very.”

“Do you have a favorite food?”

“I like hamburgers,” Cas answered without a thought, “and other things that stick to your ribs.” It was impossible not to notice when Dean smiled. The light emanating from him rippled a little with it. It was an incredible sight.

Dean pulled it to one of those places where you get a bag of food from a window. The lot was mostly deserted at this hour. Cas watched Dean ordering, paying and receiving food with interest, having never done this before. Once the bags were in the car, the scent was overwhelming. He licked his lips and tried to think of something else to take his mind off of how hungry he was.

“You can eat, Cas,” Dean told him, nodding to the bags on the seat between them.

Glad to be granted permission, Cas pulled a bag into his lap and tore into the food. As he sank his teeth into warm meat and melty cheese it was impossible not to smile and happy. Two burgers in one day. This truly was the best day he could ever remember. As they drove in silence, Cas ate heartily. He wondered what the inside of Dean’s house would look like and how long he’d be staying there. He was still eating when the streets started looking very familiar. As they crossed Troost he looked down the long straight line of it, seeing it as if for the first time. It was strange that in such a short number of days, this familiar landscape could seem so foreign.

Only a few minutes more and they were turning down a short driveway and pulling into a garage. As the door was closing behind them, Cas gathered the garbage from his eating and exited the car.

Dean led him through a door, and he found himself in a small kitchen. He watched his friend toss the car keys onto the counter and keep walking. Silently, Cas followed, bag of food and paper cup still in hand.

“This is it,” said Dean as he stepped into the center of the next room, “Home sweet home.”

Looking around, Cas found it similar to many other dwellings he’d been in. There was furniture for sitting and a television. Dean flicked on a lamp before turning to lower the blinds.

“You can sit, Cas,” he was told as Dean puttered about the room, “Take a load off, finish eating.”

He set his bags down and removed his coat, laying it over the back of the couch and dropping his bag from his shoulder to the floor. Then he settled in on the sofa and proceeded to use the squat table in the center as if it were a regular table. He ate his French fries and then, as Dean came to sit in the adjacent chair, Cas passed him one of the two little pies he’d ordered and opened the one he’d kept for himself. He’d always wanted one of these, but never had spent the money to try something so frivolous.

“Mmm” hummed Dean as he bit into his.

“You enjoy these?” Cas asked him as he opened his little cardboard box and let the warm and crusty treat slide out into his hand.

“Well, it’s not real pie. But at three in the morning? Yeah, it’ll do.”

“Real pie,” Cas repeated, “I don’t know what that is.”

“You don’t know what pie is?”

Cas shook his head, savoring his first bite. It was delicious… a sweet and gooey center wrapped in a crusty outer layer. He ate progressively faster with each bite, wishing his portion were larger.

“I should’ve gotten two of these things,” lamented Dean, leaning back in the chair.

“Delicious,” said Cas as he finished his own, “Thank you Dean.”

“Sure. You wanna shower?”

A shower? Yes. Yes, he wanted to shower. It would feel wonderful to get all the way clean. He nodded his answer and gestured to the garbage in front of him. Dean leaned in and took the crumpled bags from him. Cas watched him as he moved back towards the kitchen and stuffed the trash into a receptacle. Then, as he walked back towards Cas, Dean tipped his head. It was clearly an indication that Cas was meant to follow, so he did.

Dean led him out of the television room and into a small alcove where there were four doors. He paused at one to pull out a towel and washcloth and hand them to Cas. Then he gestured towards another door. Cas walked through it and found himself in a bathroom. Dean reached in behind him and flicked on the light.

“Is there anything you need, Cas?”

“No. Thank you, Dean,” he answered as he looked around the small space. The door was pulled shut behind him and he began to pull off his clothes. He folded them neatly on the toilet and leaned in to turn on the water. The handles were different than any he’d seen before but he managed to get them working.

A sharp knocking interrupted his progress. He turned to the door and opened it a crack, eyes finding Dean on the other side with a stack of clothing in his hands. Dean offered the stack to Cas.

“Thought you might want something clean to sleep in,” the man told him.

Cas took them and said thank you as Dean stepped back and closed the door. Immediately he dropped his face to the soft clothing in his hands and inhaled deeply. The scent was incredible, fresh. He wished that his clothes could always smell like this… like soap. And Dean.

The shower was invigorating and he stayed in too long, apparently, because when he did exit almost every surface was covered in moisture. He dried himself off and ran fingers through his wet hair. The clothes that Dean had given him were the most comfortable he’d ever worn. The pants were soft. They fit perfectly too, a gathered waist replacing the belt which usually kept his pants up. The shirt was light, barely ghosting over his skin and the white socks were thicker than the black ones he usually wore.

Now, clean and dressed with a full stomach, he could actually smell the putrid stink that radiated from his pile of dirty clothes.

“Dean?” he called as he stepped back into the television room.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure what to do with my dirty things. I’d like to wash them, but I thought it might be strange behavior to do that in someone else’s dwelling?”

“S’not strange,” answered Dean as he rose from his chair, “Give them to me and I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re going to wash my clothes?” he asked incredulously.

“Well, maybe not your suit. Normally suits are dry cleaned. I can take it to the cleaners for you. But honestly, it’s pretty shot out. Ya wanna just get new clothes?”

The idea was appealing, but he was down to $37. The Dark he’d killed today likely had money he could’ve used, but freeing Dean had distracted him. He’d abandoned his normal routine of emptying the pockets for the task of removing chains.

“I don’t really have…” his voice trailed off as he watched Dean shake his head.

“Not a problem Cas,” said Dean, “I’ll take you out in the morning and we’ll get you some clothes, okay?”

“I have no money Dean,” insisted Cas, “Not enough to buy clothes.”

“I’ll get them for you,” was the answer. It was given in a firm tone that Cas didn’t question. He nodded his agreement, eyes searching the floor for something to look at.

“It’s the least I can do,” muttered Dean, moving past him and towards the bathroom, “You fuckin' saved my life today man.”

Cas turned to follow Dean again and then watched as he pulled a small trash bag from under the sink in the bathroom and stuffed the smelly clothes and wet towel from the floor into it.

“What you’re wearing is yours now Cas, and tomorrow we’ll get you some more. You can pick, ok?”

“Thank you Dean,” he answered again, pleased that he’d be getting new clothes but still a bit uncomfortable with the idea of Dean buying him anything. It was strange to feel this way. Tessa had been his friend and he’d never felt guilty when he accepted things from her.

As he followed Dean out of the bathroom he realized why. He’d given things to Tessa too. They had both given and received from each other. Dean, however, was different. Cas had nothing to offer him in exchange for the meal he’d been given, the shower or the clothing.

He tried not to dwell on it as Dean gestured him to the couch. He watched his new friend as he moved back to the kitchen then let his eyes wander. The television was playing but it emitted only a black and white image. The men depicted were riding about on the backs of animals.

“Here,” said Dean when he returned, “This might take the edge off.”

Cas accepted the cup he was given and smelled its contents. Alcohol of some kind. He took a small sip but didn’t enjoy the sensation of burning in his throat. He traded it for the paper cup that was still perched on the table in front of him. Dean settled back in his chair as Cas sipped his drink and wondered what would come next.

Several times Dean emptied his small clear glass of alcohol and refilled it from a nearby bottle.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“How long am I meant to stay here?”

“I don’t know,” answered his friend, sitting forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees, “I haven’t thought that far ahead. But, right now, I’m thinkin… I’m thinkin you should stay as long as you want.”

“It will be morning soon. I hunt during the day. And not in this area. It will take me a long time to walk back to my part of town.”

“You hunt?”

“Yes.”

“What do you hunt?”

“Darks.”

“Was Jeff a Dark?”

“The man that imprisoned you? His name was Jeff?”

“Yep.”

“Yes, he was a Dark. There are many and I seek to kill them all.”

“So, you really didn’t come there for me?”

“No.”

“S’funny,” he said, looking Cas in the eye, “I thought you had for some reason. Maybe it’s just because I’ve seen you before. Or because I was prayin' so hard for someone to save me.”

“Praying?”

“Yeah, man. Not normally my thing. But down in that basement? Yeah. I prayed.”

“I see,” said Cas, even though he didn’t.

“So, you have to hunt every day? Or can you take a day off?”

“A day… off?”

“Yeah Cas. A fuckin day off. There’s no way I’m goin' to work tomorrow. Maybe you could skip work too. Just hang out with me?”

“Alright Dean,” said Cas, finding himself warming to the idea.

“Awesome. Well, listen, I’m gonna go catch a few hours of shut eye,” said Dean as he got up from his chair and walked back towards the alcove, “Sorry I’ve only got one bedroom but you can sleep on the couch.”

Cas watched from his seat as Dean disappeared for a moment and then returned with a pillow and blanket. He took them gratefully, then watched as Dean meticulously moved about the house checking that all the doors and windows were locked. He then extinguished the lamp.

Taking this as a signal that their conversation was ended, Cas stretched out the couch, draping the blanket over his body and pulling the pillow under his head.

“You want me to leave this on?” asked Dean, gesturing toward the TV that still played quietly in the background.

“No. Thank you.”

Dean lingered for a moment before leaving him, almost as if he had something else to talk about. But nothing more was said between them. Happy and comfortable, Cas fought sleep for a long time. He didn’t want this wonderful day to end. Birds were starting to sing outside the window before he finally nodded off.

When he woke, there was midday sun streaking in between the blinds. The house was silent except for the noise of another person breathing. Looking over, Cas saw Dean, slumped in his chair and sound asleep.

It was strange to realize that Dean had returned to the TV room at some point while Cas had been sleeping but he’d not noticed it. Normally he slept very lightly, waking at every noise. He’d learned this was necessary after being accosted a few times while he was vulnerable. But here at Dean’s house, his body had betrayed him and slept soundly… much like it had when he’d slept in hotel rooms.

He didn’t want to disturb Dean’s rest, so he stayed still, letting his mind wander. He must’ve fallen asleep again, because he was startled awake by a shout. Cas leapt to his feet, senses coming alive quickly and under duress. As he became oriented, his searching eyes landed on Dean who had shouted in his sleep but was now awake and getting up from his recliner.

“Sorry man,” said Dean as he stood and looked around, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Cas nodded and exhaled a deep breath, relaxing. Clearly there was no danger. He folded up his blanket and stacked it with the pillow, waiting to see what was next.

It turned out to be a very busy day. They ate breakfast at the small kitchen table and then got back in the car. Dean was obviously proud of his vehicle, despite the fact that it was old. They went to a store near the interstate and Dean helped him select several pairs of pants, shirts and even packages of undergarments and socks.

When Cas insisted that they shouldn’t buy so much because he had no way to carry it all with him, Dean had responded in a gruff tone that his days of living on the streets were over. Dean’s house was to be his house now and there was to be no further discussion of the matter.

“Dean,” he’d said, “I thank you for offering to share your dwelling with me. But I cannot reciprocate your assistance. I have nothing to offer you.”

“Nothing to offer me?” responded Dean, “You saved my life Cas. Who knows if I ever would’ve made it out of there… the last guy didn’t. That place was,” Dean looked at Cas then, right into his eyes and said, “Look. That place was Hell. And you pulled me out. I will never forget that I owe my life to you. I’m the one that can’t _reciprocate_ here, okay Cas? There isn’t enough I can give you to repay what you’ve done for me. So, stay with me, okay?”

The conversation between them had been strained after that, pinched. Dean didn’t look at Cas as they went through the line to pay for their purchases. He remained silent in the car too as they left the shopping center. It wasn’t until they sank their teeth into burgers that Dean’s moan of “Mmm” broke the tension between them.

“I’m gonna have to feed you something besides burgers eventually,” chuckled Dean through the food in his mouth, “But not today.”

Cas couldn’t help but smile at his companion.

“You know why I brought you to this shitty diner?” Dean asked as they ate.

“Why?”

“So you can have pie.”

Real pie, as it turned out, was a far more delectable treat than the small, sweet squares they’d eaten last night. It came in many flavors and was so perfectly delicious that it was difficult not to lick the last of it from his plate when he’d finished.

After shopping and food, they returned to the house. Dean brought in some plastic crates from the garage and emptied the contents of a bookshelf into them. The shelves, he said, were for Cas’ things and the two of them spent a few minutes taking the tags off the new items and folding them into the bookcase. Then, at Dean’s encouragement, Cas emptied his bag and placed the contents of it onto his shelf.

They settled in to watch a movie, Dean in his chair and Cas on his couch. At one point Dean received a call on his talking device, his phone, and turned off the television as he answered. Cas could only hear Dean’s side of the conversation but he gathered that Dean was speaking to Bobby and promising to “make the call” tomorrow.

As he tucked his phone back in his pocket Dean had gotten up and disappeared into his bedroom for a moment. When he returned, he had another talking device in his hands. “Here,” he said, handing it to Cas, “This is my old one. I’ll call and add a line for you. Nobody should be without one these days.”

“Thank you Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man had replied gruffly.

“What call do you have to make?” he asked his friend.

Dean seemed to have to stop and think about it. “Oh, yeah,” he said, “I have to call a shrink. Bobby’s orders.”

Cas’ confusion must’ve been evident. Dean explained that he needed to see adoctor for his head… or so Bobby was telling him. This doctor would help him process the things that had happened to him in Jeff’s basement. Cas nodded understanding, though the explanation had fostered more questions than answers.

The physical evidence of Dean’s ordeal lingered for a long time. His hand was bandaged and his neck was scabbed over. His swollen face eventually relaxed to its normal shape but dark purple and green marks mottled the skin there. The days seemed to fall into a routine though.

Every morning they’d wake up and have breakfast. Dean would drive him to the park near the cemetery and drop him off. He’d spend his days covering his new hunting grounds in a grid-like pattern and in the late afternoons, he’d always get a phone call from Dean. He’d give his friend his location and be picked up.

Once back at the house, they’d make supper. Dean was teaching Cas how to use all the appliances and make his own food. Mostly they watched the television at night, Dean very willing to answer all of Cas’ questions as they viewed a variety of programs. Between Tessa’s lessons and his “TV time” with Dean, Cas found himself growing to understand more and more about the world and it’s ways.

The way people talked and acted and how they felt were becoming easier to understand. They’d not seen Bobby or Rufus since the night Cas had come here, but Cas gathered that Dean saw Bobby at work every day. Dean’s work involved fixing cars and he seemed to like it. He told Cas in detail about being gifted the Impala by his father on his 18th birthday and how much he’d invested in “restoring” it.

The longer they lived together, the more they talked. The more they talked, the more they understood one another.

At first, Dean had to keep reminding Cas about certain things. For instance, his proximity. Drawn in closer and closer by the enticing sensation of warmth, Cas tended to orbit around Dean, always pressing nearer. The glow of his light and the shimmering color of his eyes was inviting and he’d find himself repeatedly chastised by Dean with the words, “Personal space, Cas.”

Though Dean seemed to enjoy Cas’ company and truly not mind sharing his dwelling, he was always on edge. He reacted to loud noises and had an aversion to “being snuck up on.” After accidentally startling Dean in the kitchen, which sent a pot of macaroni and cheese to the floor, Dean had barked at him roughly. As they’d cleaned up the mess from the floor, Dean’s face had softened and he’d joked that he was going to “hang a bell” from Cas’ neck so he’d not be startled anymore.

The only time Dean seemed to really relax was when he had alcohol in his hand. When asked about it, Dean simply said that it helped him to sleep. Cas was unsure if the nightly routine of sitting in his chair with a bottle until he fell asleep was the normal routine for Dean… or if this was something new since his rescue. But he didn’t speak about it.

There had only been one night, since their first, when Dean had actually gone to sleep in his bedroom. That was the second night that Cas had awakened to shouting. It was clear that when Dean slept in his bedroom, it was not peaceful. It didn’t matter to Cas though. He much preferred sharing the TV room with Dean rather than being left there alone while Dean went to sleep in his room.

“Cas?” asked Dean one night from his chair.

“Yes?”

“Have you seen a Dark since Jeff?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?”

“I killed it.”

Dean nodded, but didn’t look at Cas. He just got up from his chair and announced that he was going to bed. Cas laid down, pulling his pillow under his head, disappointed to be left alone. The glow of contentment that curled in Cas’ middle when Dean was around still lingered when they parted company, it was just lessened.

When he was away from Dean for too long the ache in his chest always returned. Usually by the end of a day’s hunting he’d be thrilled to reunite with his friend. The moment he climbed into Dean’s car he’d get relief from the ache that had been building all day.  Additionally, sliding into the car next to Dean allowed him to once again feel the soft and pleasant effects of being near a Bright.

Now, alone in the living room, he lingered watching the television as he slid down into sleep. When a piercing cry cut through his pleasant rest, he sat up and looked in the direction of Dean’s bedroom from which it had come. When the sound repeated, Cas was on his feet. He’d never set foot in Dean’s bedroom before, always passing it on his way to the bathroom but never looking inside out of respect. He couldn’t stop himself now, though, not when the man was screaming in agony.

He entered the room, which was dimly lit from the light in the alcove behind him. Dean was thrashing on the bed and Cas realized that he was dreaming.

“Dean!” he called loudly, hoping to rouse him, “Dean! Wake up!”

In response to Cas’ voice, he bolted upright and came awake. It took a moment for Dean to look around and see him in the doorway but when they’re eyes met, Cas thought for a moment that Dean may cry.

“You were dreaming,” he said, to explain why he was in Dean’s personal space.

“Yeah,” Dean answered gruffly as he moved to the edge of the bed, “Yeah, I get that.”

“Is there anything you need?” he asked, turning to leave.

“Naw, I’ll come out in a minute.”

Cas nodded and returned to his couch. He could hear Dean shuffling to the bathroom and looked up when he heard soft footfalls approaching on the carpet.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, Cas,” huffed Dean, sliding into his chair and reaching for the half empty bottle on the end table, “Damn dreams make me not want to sleep.”

“Have you always had bad dreams?”

“Well, most people do now and then,” Dean answered, “But since Jeff they’re real bad.”

“What happened in your dream?”

“Same thing that always happens,” Dean replied between swigs, “I’m back there.”

“Back where?”

“In the basement. It’s so real too… like it’s really happening.”

“But,” stammered Cas, “I don’t understand… I killed him. He’s gone.”

“Yeah Cas, you killed him,” muttered Dean, “But in my dreams he’s alive and well.”

Cas wished there was something he could do. Dean was suffering. He could sense it even if it hadn’t been so obvious.

“I can help,” offered Cas as he was struck by an idea. He sat up again and looked over at his friend, “You can sleep on the couch. I’ll take the chair. I’ll wake you as soon as you start having a dream.”

“S’fine Cas,” said Dean, “I’m fine.”

“I can help you,” said Cas ardently, “I can watch over you… make sure that when you find yourself in that basement, I’m there to pull you out.”

Dean looked at him long and hard. Cas wondered what he was thinking. They stared a long time before Dean’s face finally softened. He said, “Ya know what Cas? Just for tonight… I’ll take you up on that.”

Cas smiled, moving to stand and trade places.

“Nah, stay put,” said Dean, gesturing with his hand, “I’m good here. But you watch me okay? Wake me if I even twitch.”

Cas nodded and leaned back, bringing his feet up to rest on the coffee table. He watched Dean the rest of the night. He only had to wake him once. When he did, Dean cast grateful eyes on him and he felt very good about being there to help his friend escape his nightmares.

Dean didn’t like when Cas said the words, “watch over you,” but he definitely liked being watched. For two more nights he slept in his chair and let Cas be his vigilant guardian. The third night, he rose from his chair and said he’d be going to bed. Cas, as always, was a little sad when Dean left his company. But, a moment later, Dean’s head popped back around the doorway to the alcove.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Would you wanna come in here with me?”

“Of course,” he answered as he got to his feet, warm with the idea of being invited into Dean’s most private space.

Entering Dean’s room, he looked for a place to sit. There really wasn’t one, just an old trunk over in the corner. It was there that he perched to watch over his friend.

“Cas,” said Dean as he crawled under the covers, “You don’t have to sit over there. I trust you. You can have the other side of the bed.”

“Thank you Dean,” he said as he made his way around the other side and pulled back the covers to climb in. He and Tessa had shared a mattress too. But this was different somehow. More.

Maybe it was because Dean had been so insistent of his need for boundaries and personal space. The fact that he’d been invited into this intimate area signaled a change in their relationship, he was certain of it. This made Dean a far closer friend than he’d had before… including Tessa.

He didn’t want to ruin the joy he felt over this development with Dean. So, he carefully pushed thoughts of Tessa out of his head the moment they appeared. He rolled to his side and faced Dean so he could watch him. Dean’s back was to him, so he couldn’t see the expression on his friends face, but he hoped it was peaceful. He watched him diligently all night, simply saying his name and tapping his shoulder when he saw tension creep into his body’s frame or felt his breathing increase.

The next night it was the same. After a few more days, there was no longer a need for the blanket and pillow to be on the couch. Cas rested each night with Dean, keeping watch. It was easy and rewarding work – especially when Dean would whisper “Thanks Cas,” with each waking.

 

 

 

When Dean woke, he was refreshed. He’d been sleeping much better with Cas around. Deep inside, he knew it was pitiful to so fearful of his own dreams and memories. But it was easier somehow, to accept help from Cas that he couldn’t have accepted from others. He’d never have allowed Bobby or even Sam to see him needy to tuck in with someone, or to be awakened from bad dreams like a child. But with Cas, it didn’t matter.

Perhaps it was because Cas had actually seen him in Jeff’s basement. Yes, Bobby had seen the basement. He could make some solid guesses as to what had happened there. But Cas had seen Dean _in_ the basement. He’d been there… he knew the anguish that had been on Dean’s face and the horror of the gag and the chains. His nakedness then had been absolute. It wasn’t just a physical nakedness – a view of Dean’s anatomy. No, it had been far worse. It had been a view to his most stripped down essence. His weakness, his shame and his fear had all been as obvious as the nose on his face. So, with Cas having already seen all that, what was left to care if Dean admitted neediness? Nothing.

As he moved about the kitchen and put on the coffee, Cas entered behind him and began pulling things from the fridge… eggs, milk, bacon. They moved easily around each other as they prepared breakfast, packed lunches and ate. When they cleared their mess, Dean picked up his cooler and headed for the car, glancing at his watch to be sure he wasn’t running late. Cas tucked his PB&J into his pocket and followed.

Every day as he dropped Cas off at his “hunting grounds” Dean would find himself questioning things. Who was Cas? Where had he come from? Those things would reveal themselves in time, he was sure of it. But it was impossible not to speculate… to wonder about it.

When he’d inquired about Cas’ last name, the man had been able to give no answer. He’d simply shown Dean his tattoo, “CAS 062”. As soon as he saw it, Dean had known that Cas wasn’t just some ordinary homeless man. Hearing Cas say that he remembered nothing prior to waking near the river a month and half ago had stunned him at first, but now it was cause for careful consideration.

More than anything else, Dean had three consistent thoughts regarding his new roommate. The first was just a natural curiosity about the man’s unknowable history. The second was a growing sense of companionship; a desire to be near him and share time with him. The third, and only truly worrisome thought was this: That Cas may not be what he thinks. At his most pessimistic moments, Dean finds himself admitting that Cas may be a killer.

When Cas spoke of the Darks he hunted it was easy to believe that he truly had some magical gift that allowed him to spot the evil people who moved in society – to know which ones were so evil that they had to die. It was especially easy to think that way when Dean himself had been rescued from a Dark. But occasionally, he’d slip into wondering if perhaps that hadn’t just been luck.

Really, if Cas had killed Jeff and least one other person in just the last two weeks, then how many had he killed in his lifetime? The guy had to be coming up on thirty years old. So, thought Dean, what if Cas was a mental case like Ellen had warned about? What if he’d been killing innocent people for a long time and still was? What if Jeff had been a fluke? A coincidence? He had to admit it was possible.

So, today, rather than dwell on these questions as he drove to work and then dismiss them as usual, Dean pulled out his phone as he watched Cas walk away from him and head south through the park. He called Bobby and said he was sorry but he’d need to take the day off.

Bobby didn’t seem to mind, even with the last minute notice. He supposed that his boss and surrogate fatherhad no issue with giving him some leeway. Dean had, after all, only missed two days of work because of his abduction. And upon his return, he’d been far more patient than he’d thought himself capable of. When he’d come back to the shop, no one had been told what happened to him. Bobby had felt it was Dean’s place to decide what he wanted to say to everyone. Since he hadn’t wanted anyone to know what really happened, he’d simply pretended to have enjoyed an extended liaison with Jeff, the man his friends had seen him leave the bar with. He absorbed their cat calls and wolf whistles, blood boiling with anger and frustration, but he’d said nothing. He’d let them razz him about the finger too. They’d all been told Dean had cut it himself by accident with a sawzall. He barked at them to fuck off when they teased him and called him stump. But then he always got back to work as though nothing had happened.

He’d jumped through all of Bobby’s hoops too. He’d been going to his follow up appointments to have his pinky tended to and he’d been seeing the counselor twice a week.

Secretly, Dean was glad he’d been forced into doing the counseling. It really did help. It exhausted him, but it also helped him to see that the changes he was experiencing were normal. It was easier to accept the occasional bed wetting when he knew that other’s who’d been raped had a similar reaction.

It was good to know that he wasn’t just weak and scared now… which was the explanation his own mind had provided for his new jumpy and nervous reactions to loud noises and sudden movements. But, having his counselor tell him that was also quite normal and would likely fade with time helped a great deal. From this, Dean took hope that eventually his dreams would fade out and that his new preference for solitude over the company of his friends and family wasn’t a permanent change.

As he parked and got out of his Baby, he grabbed his phone and locked up his doors. With a rushed pace, he worked to catch up with Cas. When he finally caught sight of his friend, he slowed to a measured pace and followed without gaining.

All morning he followed along, about a block behind Cas. The man walked and walked without stopping. He was headed mostly south and it was clear that he was actively hunting, keeping up a pattern of head and neck movements that, even from a distance, were obviously those of someone who was keeping abreast of their surroundings and staying vigilant.

Cas didn’t rest at all until lunch time. Dean watched from the shade of a large sprawling oak tree as Cas entered a playground and settled on a bench. His friend watched the children intently as he pulled a sandwich from his pocket and proceeded to eat it slowly.

When Cas tossed half the sandwich to the ground as he got up from the bench, Dean knew something wasn’t right. Cas NEVER threw away food. Ever. If he was full, which he rarely was, he’d offer his left over food to Dean or wrap it up and put it away for later.

Alerted because of Cas’ demeanor, Dean watched even more closely as Cas left the park. He fell into step behind his friend again, allowing himself to get a little closer so he’d have a good view as Cas picked up his pace turned to cross the street. Yep. Something was definitely up. Cas hadn’t walked any direction but south all day.

As the congestion of the main roads died out and Cas’ new path took them down a residential street, Dean was able to see that Cas was following someone. He dropped back now that the crowd was thinning too, wanting to stay out of sight.

The three of them, Dean, Cas and what Dean suspected was a Dark, all turned again at the next corner and moved into a sprawling apartment complex. Dean hung back, closer to them now, but staying behind buildings as the men ahead of him rounded corners. He watched from a shrub at the corner of a building while the stranger buzzed himself into the building without looking behind him. Cas, smooth as silk, caught the door and entered stealthily behind the man. Dean, not wanting to lose them now, took off at a dead run. He covered the dozen paces to the door at a dead sprint and managed to catch the frame of it without a second to spare, and with far less grace than Cas had.

Pushing inside, he found himself with the option to walk down a long corridor or take the stairs to the second floor. Seeing only Cas’ feet near the top of the steps, he continued following behind them. At the top of the stairs he paused, listening carefully. He heard a key rattle in a door a few yards away and then he heard a scuffle followed by a “whump” that could only be the sound of a body hitting the floor. He peeked around the corner just in time to see two feet be dragged over a threshold and in into an apartment. He gulped as the door clicked shut.

Dean didn’t need to see more to know what had happened. He found himself surprised at the relief he felt when he realized that the feet dragging lifelessly over the carpet didn’t belong to Cas. He made a quick and quiet bolt for the door, getting only close enough to read the apartment number on it before dashing away.

Then, he thundered down the steps and out the door. As he darted away from the building, he glanced back at it and committed the building number to memory. Once he was back on the street, Dean tore down the sidewalk at breakneck speed. He ran in the direction he’d come from and he kept running until he could run no more. Once he’d exhausted himself, he slowed to a walk, letting his breathing and heartrate level out as he plodded back past the park and to his car.

Though he’d called out for the day, Dean went to the shop next. Greeted warmly by Ash as he entered, Dean sidled up to the front counter and asked for a favor.

“Hey Ash,” he said softly, not wanting to be overheard, “I need a favor.”

“Is there a Pabst in it for me?”

“If you can find what I need… there’s at least six of ‘em in it for ya,” Dean said with a smile.

“What can I do ya for?” he prompted.

Dean leaned over the counter and grabbed a pen and small piece of scrap paper so he could jot down the info and handed it to Ash.

“I need to know everything you can find out about the man who currently lives at this address.”

“Give me ten,” said Ash, turning to focus on his computer.

Ash was a wiz at all things computer and geeky. Dean meandered back to Bobby’s office while he waited and lingered for a bit, just chatting lightly about nothing while the man shuffled through the invoices on his desk. It was nice to just talk to him again. Neither man brought up Dean’s recent introverted lifestyle or the new guest at his house, which was nice. But Dean could tell Bobby wanted to know more than he was telling, and he appreciated the way his surrogate father was waiting for him to be ready to talk about everything… rather than jumping in and peppering him with questions.

Eventually, their chatter dried up and Dean wandered back to the front of the shop. Ash tipped his head, gesturing Dean to lean in closely.

“Is this a guy you’ve met?” he asked.

“No. Why?”

“Cause he’s bad news,” answered Ash. “Don’t even take a free blowjob from this one.”

“Why, what’s he into?”

“Child pornography possession and distribution, among other things. He’s convicted, Dean. He’s served his time and was released, but he’s still a high level sex offender and a douche bag of the highest order. How do you even know this guy?”

“I don’t,” he answered honestly. Then, with Ash still looking at him like further explanation was needed, Dean proceeded to lie. “I bought a part from him for Baby. Didn’t like the look of his place.”

“Well, better call the cops then,” said Ash, relaxing back in his chair, “Dude could’ve had a kid locked up in his closet for all you know.”

“You bet,” agreed Dean, nodding firmly, “Thanks for checkin it out man.”

“You know it. You gonna be at the bar tonight to cover my six pack?”

“Nah, I gotta go man. I’m off today. But I’ll make it up to ya tomorrow, ok?”

“A beer in hand is worth six in the bush,” implored Ash to his back as Dean walked out.

Back in the car, Dean was still wired. He hadn’t been this keyed up since his imprisonment. His mind was spinning. On one hand, it was sweet relief to know for sure that Cas’ kills really were bad people. Dean had zero issues with vigilante justice and so long as Cas was only killing the scum of the earth, Dean was cool with it.

However, being so close to an actual murder wasn’t without its repercussions. Physically he was elevated and his mind was spiraling with new questions and concerns. But more than anything else, Dean found himself fearing for Cas. How long could his new friend continue hunting evil people before he got bested by one of them? What Cas was doing was dangerous and it worried him more than he cared to admit.

The day was mostly over, clock racing toward the dinner hour. So, Dean pulled out his phone and called Cas who told Dean where he could be picked up. Dean turned south, and headed back to the park where he’d watched Cas intercept a Dark today. His mind became preoccupied with the murdered man as he drove, knowing that convicted sex offenders aren’t supposed to be in parks at all. In fact, they are meant to stay a certain distance from them at all times. But no, the man that Cas had killed today had been leaning on a tree within a stone’s throw of several elementary age children as they played. The thought sickened him and he was glad the pervert was dead.

When he picked up Cas, the man seemed quiet. Dean wondered if he was still feeling out of sorts. They rode in silence for a bit before Dean started to feel uneasy.

“How was it today?” he ventured.

“You know how it was Dean,” answered Cas.

“What do ya mean?”

“Dean, I saw you. Did you really think that I wouldn’t?”

“When did you see me?” he asked, suddenly feeling childish.

“Right away,” he answered. “You are… you are very bright to me Dean. The way the Darks are dark, you are light. You stand out in a crowd. You can’t hide from me. I’m not sure why you would want to. Are you afraid of me?”

“No,” he answered as he pulled up to a red light, “Absolutely not.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” he replied, “I let you sleep in my bed don’t I? You think I’d do that if I didn’t trust you?”

“Then why did you follow me?”

“I – I guess I was curious.”

“You could have just asked me to come along. We could have talked, spent the time together. I could have answered your questions.”

“You’re right Cas,” agreed Dean, foot hitting the gas as the light turned green. Having skipped his lunch all together, he now found himself quite hungry. On top of that, he was also feeling very affectionate for Cas. He’d liked the way Cas had said they could’ve spent time together. It warmed his chest and he found himself considering a night out.

“How about we eat out tonight?” he proposed.

“Eat out?”

“As in, not at home.”

“Alright Dean,” said Cas with a smile, “Let’s eat out.”

Dean backtracked a little at the next corner, turning back in favor of one of his favorite barbeque joints. It wasn’t anything fancy, cheap formica table tops, wobbly chair legs and florescent lighting. But the food was fan-fucking-tastic. In Dean’s mind, it was the best place in town. Cas ate ravenously, as usual, and when they’d finished, Dean asked Cas if he’d like to see a movie.

They drove a few blocks over to the multiplex and spent far too long staring at the posters of what was playing. He let Cas make the selection and they headed in to find seats. The show was good, and it was fun to see it with Cas. He’d gotten so attuned to things from watching television every night that he didn’t even have too many questions about it. And, they talked animatedly about the film in the car on the way home.

The two puttered around the house, in and out of the bathroom as they both went through their nightly routines. When they slid into bed, Dean stayed facing his friend. As they stared at each other in the dark, Dean found himself realizing he’d gone to bed without any pills or even a drink. He felt entirely too _present_. His mind was busy processing the events of the day, but he could feel himself calming under Cas's gaze.

“Dean?” whispered Cas.

“Yeah?” he answered, putting his elbow into the mattress and resting the weight of his head on his palm.

“What is the word to use when you always feel like you want to be closer to someone?”

“Um, I’m not sure Cas,” he answered honestly, “I think that depends on how close you really wanna be.”  He grinned as he said it, knowing that there might be a sexual connotation to either the question or the answer.

It was silent for a few beats and their eyes didn’t wander from eachother.

“How close do you wanna be Cas?” Dean asked, feeling the air thicken between them.

“I don’t know.”

“How close have you been?” he asked next, suddenly wondering if he was missing something… if there was someone else that Cas may be thinking of. As he waited for an answer, he wondered if this line of questions was really leading where he suspected.

Cas moved slowly, pushing himself closer to Dean under the covers. They were almost touching in several places. Dean could feel the material of Cas’ cotton sleep pants resting on the side of his foot. Two large blue eyes watched him for his reaction. When he didn’t pull away, Cas brought his face in a few inches closer too.

“This is the closest I’ve been,” Cas said softly, breath caressing Dean’s face as he spoke. Yeah, there was no mistaking this.

“Attraction, Cas. That’s what makes us want to move closer to someone,” said Dean, finally answering his friend’s question. He swallowed twice before asking and then held his breath, “Do you wanna touch me Cas?”

Dean exhaled and smiled widely as he watched Cas’ eyes drop from his for the first time. His friend’s face tipped downward shyly, tucking his chin in toward his chest. The man’s lashes were thick and fanned out over his wide cheekbone delicately and Dean found himself also pulling forward a little.

Cas still wasn’t looking at him when Dean reached out under the covers and found Cas’ hand. He pulled gently, curling his fingers around the width of Cas’ hand and raising the heavy palm to rest on Dean’s own chest. They stayed there like that for an immeasurable moment. No one moved. No one even breathed. Cas’ hand on Dean’s chest felt good there and he kept his own hand over Cas’; warmth spreading over him like summer sunshine when Cas finally raised his eyes to Dean’s again.

Dean hears his name whispered reverently as he leans in, but he doesn’t speak. He just slowly presses his lips to Cas’ cheek. Cas turns his face into the kiss and Dean doesn’t hesitate to press their lips together gently. It’s the most tender moment he’s ever shared with anyone in all his life.

When he pulls back, Cas looks over at him with eyes shining, vibrant and deeply intuitive. There’s such adoration in them that Dean can’t help but feel unworthy. By silent agreement, they both rearrange their bodies to lay closer, Cas pressed into the circle of Deans arms. It's obvious as they lay together, every inch of them wrapped up in one another, that things will change going forward. There is no going back now.

.


	7. The Least Scary Scenario

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ravenwolf36 for editing! :)

Considering how sober he was when he'd laid down, Dean had slept pretty well. He awakened once to pee, gently pulling away from the warmth of Cas’ body and slipping out from under the covers with care to not disturb his bedmate. When he’d crawled back in, Cas was awake and asked him if he was alright. He reassured that he was as the two curled up together again. It had been very reassuring to have Cas in his bed and waking him from his dreams lately; and tonight, with their bodies wrapped up in one another, Dean felt the most calm and the most comfortable he had since Jeff. Maybe even before.

When the alarm went off in the morning, they were still close under the covers and Dean felt empowered to tip his head sideways and press a kiss to his friends temple. He took a deep breath too – inhaling the scent of their shared shampoo in Cas’ soft hair.

“Good morning Dean,” said Cas softly.

“Hey Cas,” he answered as he pulled away to stretch.

“No dreams last night,” Cas observed.

“Nope.”

“That’s two nights in a row.”

“I know. It’s been good,” agreed Dean, “at least now you can get some shut eye too.”

They went about their normal routine of getting ready for the day, and then climbed into the car together. As they pulled out of the driveway, Dean reminded Cas that after work they were headed to a barbeque at Bobby’s place.

“It will be nice to see him again,” answered Cas.

“Yeah, and Ellen’s dying to meet you,” added Dean, “I think this whole thing may have been staged for that very purpose.”

Cas nodded, looking out his window thoughtfully. When Dean dropped him off at his usual spot in the park, Cas got out of the car. But instead of just walking off as usual, he bent down and looked back in the window at Dean and gave him a tentative smile. As Dean smiled back, he watched his friend’s face break into a huge grin. Those magnetic eyes held his for a beat longer than usual before Cas broke their gaze and turned to walk away. He’d driven two blocks before Dean realized he was still smiling.

His work at the shop had been slower as he’d learned to use his tools with only three fingers. His missing digit still ached almost constantly. And it itched too – in places he couldn’t possibly scratch. He knew he was lucky that all he’d lost to Jeff was a pinky. It could have been so much worse. But it was no small adjustment, re-learning to use all his tools. And, the cumbersome bandage got in his way and often made it hard to get the right angle for things. In addition to making his job challenging, the bandages had to be constantly changed which was a chore that he wouldn’t miss when the dressings were removed for good.

Work was light at the shop today and with the barbeque tonight, the guys were all in a mood to fuck around. Unfortunately, they were still calling him Stump and it looked like the nickname might actually stick. With some extra time to mess around they found themselves frisky, snapping shop towels at each other and playing practical jokes. The day flew by and everyone left in good spirits with plans to head over to Bobby’s for dinner.

After picking up Cas from hunting, Dean headed home where they showered and changed before getting back in the car to head over to Bobby’s place. The backyard was cut from the view of the scrapyard by a tall privacy fence and within its borders, Ellen had cultivated a nice little yard. The grass was green and the bushes were trimmed. And for the occasion, there was a blaze roaring in the fire pit. When they stepped in through the gate, Dean nodded to the guys who were clustered around the fire. They were shooting off bottle rockets with Sam and all greeted him obnoxiously with a chorus of “Sup Stump!”

He rolled his eyes as he hugged his brother and then turned his attention to the grill perched alongside the house where Bobby was tending the meat. Smoke rolled gently away from it and carried an enticing scent that made his stomach growl hungrily. The back doors were propped open and as he and Cas moved to greet Bobby, Ellen stepped out with bags of ice in each hand.

Dean took them from her and introduced her to Cas as he worked to dump the contents of the bags into the beer coolers on the patio.

“Well Cas,” she said warmly, “It’s nice to meet the hero who brought our Dean back home.”

“It’s nice to meet you Ellen, and thank you for having me,” said Cas in response. Dean smiled at them. Cas was getting better and better every day. He wasn’t nearly as awkward as he used to be, though there was still a certain rigidity to his posture and a formality to his speech that set him apart… especially in this crowd.

Dean dug around in the coolers and pulled out a beer for each he and Cas and then stood chatting with Ellen for a few minutes, Bobby easily looping his way into the conversation. When she left to go back to the kitchen, Dean pulled Cas over to meet the guys from the shop. As he introduced his friend, he kept an eye on Ash and watched for a spark of recognition. He wondered if the man would remember having seen Cas on the street. But he didn’t seem to.

Appraising Cas now, Dean realized why. The difference these past few weeks had made was astounding. It wasn’t just a change in wardrobe either. Although, replacing Cas’ ragged and ill-fitting clothes had helped. Since moving in with Dean, Cas had put on at least ten pounds. He looked bulkier, healthier. His color was better too. He’d always been tanned from being outside so much – but now his skin had a healthy glow to it. His eyes were even brighter than they’d been and his chapped lips were now plump and moist.

As he looked his friend over, he had to admit, Cas was sexy.

He’d not been thinking of Cas in a sexual way at all. He’d been thinking of him a lot, yes, but mostly with curiosity and interest. He’d been thinking of him as someone who needed help and someone who helped him in return. He’d thought of him as friend and a companion. Even when they’d kissed last night, it hadn’t been lustful. It had been loving. Dean hated to admit it, but his feelings for Cas were strong. He felt protective of him and needy of him at the same time. He felt respect for him and pity for him simultaneously. It was quite strange.

But now, for the first time, he was seeing him the way others saw him. And as he looked around the fire in the gathering dusk of an early fall evening, he watched his friends look Cas over and assume that he and Dean were dating. Cole gave him a nod as if to give approval. Dean found himself nodding back. He and Cas may not be lovers yet, but he knew now that it was a likely evolution. And, as he stood among his friends, he found himself proud to be associated with Cas in that way.

Cas was standing next to him, slowly sipping a beer, and Dean found himself liking the way it felt to think of his friend in this new way… liking where they were headed. Eyes lingering on Cas, he followed the man’s gaze as he focused on something over Dean’s shoulder.

Turning, he saw that Rufus had arrived and was talking with Bobby and Ellen over by the grill. The three were watching him and Cas intently as they spoke. Dean knew that Cas had noticed it and had realized that they were the subject of discussion. He put his hand reassuringly on Cas’ shoulder to let his friend know that it was okay.

As the sun slipped behind the horizon line, several of Sammy’s friends entered. They hung out at the fire for a while, but soon commandeered the remainder of the bottle rockets and moved out into the salvage yard, away from adult eyes, to light them off.

Dean settled into his lawn chair, folding his leg over to rest his right ankle on his left knee. It was a nice evening and he was having fun just hanging out. It had been a long time since he’d been anywhere, preferring his own home and the company of his new roommate to any social situation. There had been no happy hour with his work buddies, no bars of any kind. In fact, the movies last night with Cas had been the only time he’d left the house for something unnecessary since his incident.

Deep inside, a small and timid voice reminded him to stop mentally replacing worlds like kidnapping, rape, assault, imprisonment and torture with words like “ordeal” and “incident”. The internal chastising took on the voice and tone of his counselor and it irritated Dean. He was making progress in many ways and didn’t want to be reminded of how far he had to go when he was actually enjoying himself.

Dean’s attention drifted in and out of the conversation around him, mostly content to just sit and observe rather than engage. Occasionally, he’d meet eyes with Cas. His friend seemed to be enjoying the outing, though he remained reserved; much like Dean.

The screech and pop of bottle rockets continued from the other side of the fence, occasionally accompanied by the voices and laughter of Sam and his friends. When the food was ready, everyone migrated back to the patio where Ellen had a nice spread set out. Two picnic tables had been pulled end-to-end and covered over with table clothes. There was a variety of good food visible in the warm glow of tiki torches and a half burnt out string of party lights that had been dangling from the eves on the back of the house for as long as Dean could remember.

They all went on about the food as they sat down, praising Ellen for her homemade potato salad and cracking open fresh beers. Bobby dropped a huge platter of meat onto the table and sat down, gruffly accepting praise as everyone started digging in. Dean had opted to sit on the end seat, not quite comfortable with being sandwiched between two people. Cas’ thigh was warm against his, a constant reassurance as they filled their plates and ate.

The rowdy group quieted for a bit as they tucked in delicious food, but eventually conversation resumed. Dean watched his friends try to include Cas – especially Cole. The man had been far warmer tonight than expected considering that things had been “off” between them since Dean had come out.

The food was delicious and when they’d all finished eating they carried their plates inside, helping Ellen clear the table. Then, under the soft lights, they all settled in to talk and drink and have some fun. Bobby gave Sam the secret location of a few real firework mortars he’d been hiding in the back of an old utility shed out in the yard, and they all watched as the younger crowd disappeared to go find them.

As the time passed, the larger group drifted into smaller ones. The guys who had brought dates with them said polite good byes while others lingered, enjoying the fire. Dean had turned away, telling the group he was going to go sit in the “seniors section” for a while. He left Cas in the company of his friends and went to join Rufus and Bobby on the patio.

Through the evening, Cas had done a good job of answering questions vaguely and not using words like “hunting” and “Darks”. Dean found himself proud of Cas. His friend must have come a long way socially if Dean now felt okay about leaving him unattended while he spent a few minutes with his ‘uncles’.

Both men nodded a greeting to him when he walked up to join them. But they skipped any semblance of small talk and just started right in.

Dean had to chuckle as Rufus started off with, “What’s goin' on between you two, huh?”

He let his eyes wander to the beer between his hands and busied himself with picking at the label as he answered, “We’re just… we’re figuring things out.”

“What does that mean?” questioned Rufus, “What’s there to figure out?”

“There’s a fuck-ton of shit to figure out,” answered Dean, “I mean, I’m goin' to my counseling. I’m tryin' to get past this shit. And he’s… helping me.”

“Helping you how?” pressed Rufus.

“C’mon man,” retorted Dean, “You want the specifics?”

“I wanna know what’s goin on between you two. Is he stayin on? Are you two a ‘thing?”

“Well fuck, Rufus, next thing I know you’re gonna be askin if I use protection. What are you my old man?”

“We’re worried about ya kid,” interrupted Bobby.

“No need,” said Dean flatly as he glanced across the yard to Cas and found his friend looking back at him, “I’m fine. We’re both doin fine.”

“We know ya think so,” Rufus placated, “but we’ve got reasons to worry.”

Dean glanced back and forth between the two, suddenly picking up on the undercurrent of something that was going unsaid.

“What are you really asking?” challenged Dean, “You just wanna know if we’re a couple?”

Based on their reactions Dean could tell that his possible coupling wasn’t really what was on their minds. But they were clearly curious about his relationship with Cas and they weren’t going to deny it.

“Are you?” pressed Bobby.

“Not yet,” said Dean honestly, “but I could see it goin that way – eventually.”

“What have you found out about him? About his past?”

Looking between the two men he now saw that this was the question they’d both been wanting to ask. He had no reason not to be honest with them. But he found himself not wanting to get into details tonight. He knew that this was a big conversation… one best saved for another time. He didn’t want to get into the “Darks” thing right now. But there was no need to try and pretend that the men weren’t raising valid concerns. He decided to go ahead and admit that overall there was something weird about Cas and then give them more details at a better time; a time when they didn’t have guests sitting twenty feet away.

To Bobby’s question of what Dean had found about about Cas’ past, he answered, “Not much.” Then he settled his attention on shredding the label of the beer bottle in his hands. “But,” he continued carefully, “I know he’s different. He’s not just some random homeless guy.”

“We know that too son,” answered Bobby, leaning forward in his chair, “Why do you think we’re askin?”

“I think you’re askin ‘cause you both know I don’t have a dad who could give two fucks. And I may as well just tell you that we ain't bumping uglies, okay? That’s not how it is.”

Both men were silent so he continued, “We’re friends. We help each other.”

“Have you met any of his other friends? His contacts? Family?” asked Bobby.

“His contacts?” Dean repeated questioningly.

“Is there anybody he associates with?” pressed Rufus.

Dean was beginning to feel defensive. “Jeez Bobby,” he barked, zeroing in on his surrogate father, “what’s with the third degree. I feel like I’m in an FBI interview room.”

Dean could tell by the way Rufus relaxed his shoulders that the man was finally going to stop asking questions and speak his mind.

“Well, there’s something not right about your boy over there,” Rufus answered firmly, nodding his head towards Cas, “we’ve got suspicions about him and you can’t seem to tell us anything helpful.”

“Suspicions?” Dean gaped.

“Yeah boy,” answered Bobby, “And don’t pretend like you ain't got some too. You already said he wasn’t an ordinary homeless man. What we want to know is… what have seen or heard that makes you say so?”

“He’s an amnesiac,” said Dean, still on the defensive, “he’s got nothin… up til about two months ago. Just… nothin.”

“Keep talkin,” pushed Bobby.

“He’s smart. Really smart. But he didn’t know shit when we picked him up… and I’m not just sayin he didn’t remember his old life. It was like he didn’t have a life before. I mean, I’ve never met anyone with amnesia… but in the movies… they know stuff. They’ve forgotten their families and their life… but they know how to live. They know what fucking pie tastes like.”

“But he didn’t?”

“Nope. It’s like that with most stuff… dude’s just got no understanding of how things work at all. He doesn’t get it when you tell a joke. He doesn’t understand emotions. Sometimes it’s like he’s a baby… just born. But he learns quick though. Real quick. Watchin TV helps a lot. He’s starting to pick up how to talk to people. Even a week ago, I never would’ve brought him here. But he’s doin alright tonight.”

“What led him to that house? How did he know you were there?’

“He says he didn’t. Said he came to kill Jeff and I just happened to be there.”

“Why was he coming for Jeff? Did he know the guy?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

It was getting to the point where he was going to have to tell these two about the “Darks” but he really didn’t want to open that can of worms tonight. Unfortunately, with his uncles sniffing around like this, it was pointless to try and evade them. Resigned to telling them what he knew, he took a deep breath. But that’s when Bobby started speaking again.

“Look son, there’s only two scenarios that I can come up with based on what I know… they’re both scary… one more than the other, I guess… but both scary.”

“Okay,” said Dean, fascinated by the idea of hearing someone hazard a guess about Cas, “Let’s hear it.”

“Well, the way we figure it,” said Bobby as he glanced over to Rufus, “he’s government property.”

It was silent for a moment, the conversation taking a turn that Dean hadn’t been expecting.

“He’s special somehow,” added Rufus, “And they’ve picked him up for either use or study. His mind has been fucked over by whatever behavior modifications they’ve put him through. And his finding you may not have been an accident.”

“Shit,” said Dean, heart pounding as his brain considered the idea. The three were silent for a minute or two, easy laughter from the nearby fire pit drifting past on a light evening breeze.

“Bobby,” he implored, “you said there were two scenarios and one was less scary. Give me the less scary version.”

“That _was_ the less scary version kid,” said Rufus calmly, focused on Dean’s face intently.

“Okay,” said Dean, “So there’s the possibility he’s been sent here by ‘big brother’. That he’s been sent here… for me… to use me to get to Sam… because he’s got some kind of ability… I can wrap my head around that.” He looked between Bobby and Rufus while his mind was racing with the possibilities. Knowing Cas had a special ability… it only made sense for the government to be interested in him. He felt stupid for not considering that possibility sooner. “Okay Bobby, I’m ready. Hit me with the scary version.”

“The scary version is that he isn’t just some guy who was born special. Scary version…” Bobby said softly as he leaned forward, “…scary version is… that they made him that way.”

Dean wasn’t expecting that. But in hind sight, he should have. Cas had a gift. Dean couldn’t deny it. There was no question as to whether or not he’d been manipulated in some way by someone… the question was simply on the specifics of how. Had he been plucked from a family somewhere and had his mind wiped so he could be groomed to kill? Or had he been a test tube baby in a lab somewhere and never seen the light of day until now? Sadly, that scenario would explain a lot about Cas. Dean now knew it was time. There was no denying it. It was time to come clean with the family about his friend.

“He’s got a tattoo on his wrist. It’s fuckin weird. It’s just his name and a set of numbers.”

“Tell me exactly,” said Bobby.

“It’s his name, C-A-S,” Dean spelled out, “followed by three numbers. 0-6-2.”

“What’s his last name?”

“He doesn’t know it. Only calls himself Cas because of the tat.”

Dean sat there, watching Bobby and Rufus stare gravely at each other.

“He can see things,” Dean continued, “In people. He can tell the ones that are evil. He says they look dark to him… he actually calls them “Darks”. That’s why he came for Jeff. Cas says he was a Dark.”

“Fuck,” said Bobby and Rufus in unison.

“How could ya keep this from us?” Bobby asked him.

“It never occurred to me that it might have anything to do with Sammy,” Dean admitted. “I just thought he had a gift. He goes out every day while I’m at work. He calls it hunting. While I’m just workin on cars as usual, he fucking kills Darks like it’s a day job.”

“He’s killed since he’s been with you?”

“Yep.”

“Jeez kid, and you haven’t said a word? Has it occurred to you that he might be killing based on someone else’s agenda?”

“Yeah, it has,” Dean challenged, “I’m not a fool Bobby. I followed him one day. Watched him take one down. Got the dude’s info and had Ash look him up.”

“Well… who was it?”

“A pedophile. A nasty one. I watched him follow the guy from a park. He’d been standing there watchin kids play.”

“And Cas killed him?” questioned Rufus.

“Yep.”

“This is worse than I thought,” said Rufus to Bobby.

“You can’t keep him,” said Bobby, turning his attention to Dean, “You can’t. Whether he’s here cause they sent him or here by accident doesn’t even matter. Either way, he’ll bring them down on all of us. Your brother's at risk Dean.”

Dean’s eyes flicked to the fire, watching Cas.

“It may already be too late,” whispered Rufus to Bobby. The statement brought Dean’s eyes back to the men.

“What do I need to do?”

“Nothing,” said Bobby firmly. “Not tonight. Just take him home and make like everything’s normal. We’ll try to figure out what we’re gonna do. I’ll talk to you at the shop tomorrow.”

Dean nodded, a little sad to feel the future he’d only begun to imagine with Cas slip away from him. He hadn’t even known how much he wanted it until it had become something he couldn’t have. Over Bobby’s shoulder Dean saw the gate to the yard open up and Sammy push through with his friends. Immediately his eyes moved to Cas. He watched carefully as Cas’ head swung towards the gate and watched the rowdy high school boys enter the yard. He didn’t seem to be especially interested in Sam, turning back to the fire after just a moment. But, if he’d been trained, that was to be expected, right?

Even sitting here with the men he now knew to be ex-agents and logic that he couldn’t refute, it was difficult to suspect Cas. The guy was just too honest… too simple… to utterly innocent to be the product of government indoctrination.

Sadly, the image of Cas as a killer circled in his mind to counter his position. He could still see it clearly, the man standing behind Jeff… arms open wide with a razor sharp wire spread between them. He closed his eyes against the image but it was still there and he grimaced as he remembered the spatter of red as it arced through the air when Cas had sliced Jeff’s neck.

On the heels of that was the memory of seeing the shoes of a pedophile being drug across cheap carpet in the long and dim hallway of a low-rent apartment complex. It was difficult to rectify the two vastly different personifications of Cas. One was a sleek killer. The other was a gentle angel. Which was real?

“Bobby,” implored Dean, “I really don’t think he’s killing from an agenda. He’s not targeting people the government would care about. He’s killing people that he knows are evil.”

“It’s details boy,” said Bobby firmly, “It doesn’t matter if he’s a bad guy or if he’s innocent and just being used by the government machine. It doesn’t matter if he was born this way or engineered. What matters is that he’s government property. He’s an asset to them. A tool. He’s a hammer that they’d like to use to pound nails. And make no mistake Dean… they WILL come for him. As long as he’s with you, your brother’s in danger. We all are.”

Dean nodded, knowing Bobby was right.

“You’re grateful to him, I get that. And I’m no fool. I can see that you care for him. But we need to get him out of your life and quick. If I’d have known this sooner, I’d have had you give him some cash and bus ticket and send him away. But now, it’s probably too late.”

Dean nodded again, unable to argue when his brother’s life hung in the balance. He wanted very much to shelter Cas. More than anything he wanted to hold him again as they slept tonight… feel peace as he laid in those arms. But he had to put his family first. Sammy. Sammy was more important than Cas. He had to be.

Dean stood now, instinctually wanting to pull Cas from the group once Sammy and his friends had sat down there.

“You take him home Dean,” said Bobby firmly, “Do everything the way you normally would. See me when you get to the shop in the morning. Hopefully by then we’ll have some kind of a plan.”

Dean didn’t say good bye. He didn’t pop inside to tell Ellen thanks for dinner. He barely acknowledged Sam as he stepped up to the fire, not wanting to draw Cas’ attention to him in any way. It was bad enough that they’d met before.

“Hey man,” said Dean, laying a hand on Cas’ shoulder, “you ready to head out?”

Cas nodded and they both said goodbye to the group with a wave before heading through the gate and out into the scrapyard where they’d parked. The ride home was a quiet one. Not normally one to fill the silence with small talk, Dean simply turned on the radio and tried not to think about what tomorrow would bring.

Once home, they puttered about their normal evening routine. Dean sat in his chair for a while, sipping a whiskey and keeping his eyes on the television as his mind raced in unproductive circles.

 

 

 

Cas watched Dean as he drank in his chair. Dean was a quiet man, so it wasn’t strange to have him keep silent after the party. But Cas had seen several people exchange a look or a whispered conversation about him at Bobby’s tonight and he wondered why.

“Dean?”

“Yeah Cas?”

“People were talking about me tonight. Even you for a while. Why?”

“It’s normal,” answered Dean, probably a little too fast. “They all think we’re a couple. They can tell you’re important to me. So they paid attention to you.”

 “I’m important to you?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, not looking at him, “You know you are.”

“You are important to me as well Dean. I can feel it in my chest.”

Dean turned from the TV for the first time now, looking intently at him. His green eyes were inquisitive, curious. His light was pulsing softly and Cas watched as he took another swig from his glass.

“What does it feel like? The feeling in your chest?” Dean asked him.

“It feels painful,” he answered truthfully, “But it’s not a strong pain like hunger. It just aches. The longer I’m away from you the worse it gets. When you are with me, it’s gone. Is there a name for that feeling?”

Dean nodded and took a long time to answer. “Loneliness,” he finally said. “You just miss me when I’m gone. You get lonely.”

“And you feel that for me too?”

“Yeah Cas, I do.”

It wasn’t easy to watch Dean get up from the chair and head to bed. There were still other questions he wanted to ask. But with Dean, it was easy to tell when the window for questions was open and when it closed. Dean would say no more tonight, Cas was sure of it. So he stood and silently followed Dean to the bedroom, crawling under the covers with him. Before he even had a chance to wonder if tonight would be like last night, strong arms reached out and pulled him in.

It felt wonderful to be in Dean’s arms… to be so close… to be so welcomed… to be allowed to touch. The feeling he now named as contentment slid over him as he tucked in with Dean. Being in the man’s arms was wonderful for two reasons. The first was that it was pleasurable. The second was that it was practical. He didn’t have to stay awake now and watch Dean for his nightmares. Holding one another like this allowed him to sleep. If Dean tensed with fear… if his breathing accelerated… if he showed any physical signs of mental distress… Cas would feel it and wake.

Twice during the night Dean pressed his lips to Cas and each time, he melted with affection at the touch. With Dean’s alarm came a new day and, sadly, the need to pull apart from each other and go out into the world. Cas ate his eggs and made his sandwich, putting dishes into the sink before they left together. Normally Dean was quiet in the mornings as they drove, but something was different today. As Dean pulled to the curb at the park to let Cas out, he was surprised to feel Dean’s hand move from its resting place on the bench seat behind him to the back of his neck. 

He was being pulled then, gently, towards his Bright. As their faces came closer, Cas watched Dean’s eyes slip closed and let his close as well. With no visual input, his other senses lit up. His ears took in the sound of the birds in the nearby trees and the low rumble of the engine as it idled. His skin came alive under the touch as Dean’s rough hand slid from around his neck and forward to cup his jaw. His mouth tasted the sweetness of Dean… layered with coffee and breakfast. His toes curled in his boots and his hands sought something to clutch onto as the sweeping feeling of tingles began skittering from his extremities to his core.

The overload of feelings was just too much. His mind slowed and sputtered to a stop – a silent agreement with the rest of his body that this was something to be felt, not thought about. A sense of belonging swept over him as their tongues slid together and their breathing grew faster. He was Dean’s now. If the kiss didn’t claim him as such, his body’s response to it certainly did. He’d never belong to anyone the way he belonged to Dean.

When they pulled slowly apart, Cas’ eyes were stunned by the light emanating from his companion. He’d always been bright, but now he was shining. The sight of it was indescribable. He’d never seen anything so thrilling as those enchanting eyes meeting his in acknowledgement, radiating with a light that could barely be contained by flesh.

Certain that there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t foul this moment between them, he backed out the door and closed it behind him, turning to the south to begin the day's hunt. He looked back once as he heard the car accelerate and pull away from the curb. The shiny black Impala slid past him, Dean not turning to look at Cas as he drove past. But the warmth of his friend's light could be felt as the car breezed past.

 

 

 

Dean was still buzzing from the kiss when he pulled into work. He forced down the frog in his throat as he entered the office and punched in. Then, rather than head out onto the shop floor, he took the hallway back to Bobby’s office. When he entered, Bobby pressed his lips into a tight line and held a single finger to them – a universal hand signal to be quiet.

Dean nodded and kept silent as Bobby laid hands to him and felt him over from head to toe. He watched with wide eyes as his stand-in-father checked over all his buttons and even had him take off his boots so those could be checked as well. Then Bobby waited silently while Dean put them back on again and tipped his head towards the door. They kept silent as they walked out onto the street and headed west on the sidewalk. It was there that he finally spoke.

“We’re goin' for breakfast.”

That was all that was said until they settled into a booth at a nearby diner. They held menus in their hands, and Bobby kept one eye on the door as they talked.

“Sam is safe,” said Bobby firmly.

“How so?” asked Dean, wondering what precautions his uncles had implemented to be sure that Sam wasn’t in danger while at school.

“He’s gone. He was taken into protective custody late last night… or early this morning.”

Dean’s jaw dropped, “Taken? By who?”

“Your Daddy. He’s out on the road with your father now. Invisible. Off the grid.”

Dean was stunned by this development. But he realized now… he shouldn’t have been. As he’d laid in the relative comfort of Cas’ arms last night, three ex-agents had been strategizing, mobilizing. There was likely already a plan in place and Dean was only being made aware of it as courtesy – as an outsider. He wasn’t consulted or involved in any way. He realized in hindsight that he was likely considered to be part of the problem, not part of the solution. He’d be kept in the dark about everything now… even his brother’s location.

“What’s happening?” he asked, hoping Bobby would at least divulge the nature of their plans, if not their actual strategy.

“Nothing as far as you’re concerned. Life goes on. For as long as you want to, keep shacking up. See where this goes. But there’s gonna be some changes.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you’ll have eyes on ya. So will Cas. All the time.”

“Jesus.”

“Yep, and Mary and Joseph too.”

Dean watched the waitress approach their table and caught the quick motion of Bobby flipping his coffee cup over – an indication that he’d like her to fill it. Dean did the same.

“We’re gonna be on you two like flies on shit. We’ve worked out a surveillance schedule and Ellen’s gonna be comin to the shop for me so I can focus on this. She’s there now. She’s havin a quick meeting to tell everyone that I’ve got a medical issue and will be taking some time off. She’ll take care of my work there… run things. Your job is to go along with it. If people ask you for details, you tell em to fuck off. It’s none of anybody’s business what I’m sick with… got it?”

Dean nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

“There’s more,” said Bobby firmly, “When you unlock your tool box today, you’ll find your piece in there. Keep it on ya from now on.”

Dean’s mind flicked to his Colt – the engraved slide, the ivory grip, the weight of it and how it had felt in his hands. It had been a gift from his father years ago when life had been different. He hadn’t carried it in a long time; it had been sitting in Bobby’s gun safe for years now.

“You’ll get a call. Every Friday for as long as this goes on. Always at 6:00. Don’t answer it in the car, at the shop or at home. Go somewhere when you get off work on Fridays... somewhere different every week. Be somewhere you can talk by six cause it’ll be Sam. You boys can keep in touch that way. It’ll be a different number each time, cause he’ll be dumping the phone after he talks to you. If he calls and you don’t answer… he won’t call back. You’ll have missed your chance to speak to him until the next week. You got it boy?”

“I got it.”

Bobby quieted for a moment as the waitress walked past, then spoke up again.

“You always shut your blinds at night?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We’ll be watchin the house. If something ain't right, open the blinds on at least one window on the front side of the house. If there’s a 911 situation, shoot me a blank text. If hell breaks loose at any point… just fire a shot. We’ll move in, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“When will Sam call?” Bobby asked him, quizzing him to see if he was retaining the info he was receiving.

“Friday’s at six.”

“What will you always have with you now?”

“My piece.”

“What’s the batsignal?”

“My blinds. Or a blank text. A shot if I’m in trouble.”

“Good boy,” praised Bobby, “You hungry?”

“Nope.”

“First time for everything,” Bobby joked.

Dean’s head was spinning as he watched Bobby turn to the waitress and order food. When she turned to Dean, he waived her off indicating he only wanted coffee.

“What about Sammy?” Dean asked when she’d gone.

“He’ll be safe. Ain't nobody better equipped to protect him than your Dad.”

“I mean,” he clarified, “What about school? He has college next year.”

“We’ll see about that,” hedged Bobby, “He can’t do shit next year if he’s dead or missing. Keepin him alive is job number one.”

“Where’s Rufus?”

“Where do ya think? He’s on your boy.”

“Was he following us this morning?” Dean asked, thinking of the kiss they’d shared when he’d dropped Cas at the park.

“No. Rufus was at the park when you got there this morning… waiting to intercept your boy at the south end.”

The thought irritated Dean, though he wasn’t sure why. He knew this was all for the best… it had to be done. He was glad, truly glad, that he had family who not only cared enough to take action but had the skills needed to handle that action. Not for the first time in his life, Dean found himself feeling lucky to have the family he did, and at the same time feeling cursed because of it.

“What else do I need to know?”

“Well, you can’t speak freely in your house. We have no idea who’ll hear what you say. Same goes for your car and the shop and even your phone. You need to check your clothes every time you part from Cas and make sure there’s nothing on ya before you talk about anything important… especially before you talk to Sammy. You know the drill… what to look for. And remember, your location is never a secret. Even if you don’t have your phone… there’s still drones. You won’t hear them… not in the city.”

“Bobby, do you think Cas is dangerous to me?”

“If I thought that, I’d never let you close your eyes in his presence. He’d not be sleeping at your place anymore, that’s for damn sure. As far as I’m concerned,” said Bobby, “he’s a worm - on a hook. And I’m ‘bout to catch me a big goddam fish.”

“Who do you think is coming for him?”

“I don’t know.”

It was then that Bobby’s pocket buzzed. It caught his attention since he was almost certain that they’d both left their phones at the shop. He watched as Bobby pulled an antiquated little flip phone from his pocket and answered it. Dean watched his posture stiffen as he listened for a moment and then hung up.

“We’ve got trouble already.”

“What?”

“Rufus never saw Cas.”

“What?”

“He saw you. He saw your car go by without Cas, but was never able to intercept.”

“Well this is off to a great start. Maybe you old codgers just can’t keep up anymore,” teased Dean.

“Yeah, keep laugin' idjit,” growled Bobby, “But you’re lunch hour just filled up.”

“What? What am I doing for lunch?”

“You’re gonna call your boy and make plans to meet over your lunchbreak… let me know where you’ll be… so we can intercept.”

“Should I call him from my own phone?” Dean questioned.

“Sure. Nothing between you and Cas changes… you can still call me too,” Bobby clarified, “Just not about this shit.”

Dean watched Bobby shove his plate away and get to his feet. They stood together at the counter as they waited for the waitress to bring over their ticket and ring them up.

“Don’t call me about lunch. Just plan to meet him at noon and I’ll be seein' you before then to find out where.”

Dean nodded. He had an overwhelming urge to hug his uncle. But he didn’t. He just walked with him shoulder-to-shoulder back to the shop. They parted company as soon as they’d come through the door, Bobby heading back towards his office and Dean out onto the shop floor.

Around him, the loud bursts of pneumatic tools sounded off over the din of other machinery. Cole called out a greeting as Dean walked by, likely noticing that he was late but not speaking of it. He waved good naturedly and after he’d passed by, Dean glanced back. He saw the man turn back to his work, bending over the engine of a late model Chevy Malibu.

Moving to his toolboxes in the corner, he unlocked them and carefully slipped his weapon into his belt under his shirt. He walked to the restroom where he was able to adjust its position better under his jumpsuit in private. On the way back to the shop floor, he stopped in Bobby’s office and picked up his phone.

When he returned to his work area, his mind was racing with details. He’d have to get his hands on a shoulder holster. It was the only possible concealment he could hope to pull off at work. Keeping his firearm on his thigh or calf wouldn’t be wise with his legs hanging out from under a car all day. Keeping it at his waist would make it too difficult to draw if he needed to… the jumpsuit getting in his way.

And, he thought morosely, he’d need to actually get in some practice with it. He had one less finger now than he’d had last time he’d been packing. He’d be a fool to imagine it wouldn’t change how he handled the weapon.

Three more times he called Cas’ phone that day and none were answered. He was getting progressively more apprehensive as the day wore on. When Bobby came out onto the shop floor around 10:30, Dean told him so. Bobby encouraged him to keep to the usual routine and not too read too much into it. But Dean knew Bobby well. Nothing he could say would make Dean believe that Bobby wasn’t affected by this unexpected turn of events.

When the quitting hour rolled around, Dean was sad to see how little he’d gotten done. He’d have to do better tomorrow or others would wonder about him. He went about his usual routine, cleaning up a bit before calling Cas to see where to pick him up.

Still, there was no answer. This was new… Dean had no idea what to do. It had only been a few weeks, but he’d settled into their routine now. Every day he worked, he’d call Cas when he got off and find out where to pick him up. The call had never gone unanswered before. What was he supposed to do? Just go home? Drive the streets looking for his friend?

With Bobby not nearby for consultation, Dean opted to think about what he’d have done if this circumstance had presented itself on normal day. With that in mind, he stopped at the front counter.

“Hey Ash, you headed to the bar?”

“Is a frog’s ass water-tight?”

“Well, I’ll see ya there,” chuckled Dean, “I’ve got a PBR for ya.”

“You better have at least six,” joked Ash, “It’s been days… with interest I think you owe me eight.”

Dean forced a smile and headed out into the lot. He climbed in his baby, the weight of his pistol dragging on him. It felt different to wear it again. The weight of carrying didn’t come from the physical weight of a firearm. It came from the emotional baggage of knowing why it was needed.

He worked to keep his focus on his friends as they tossed back a few. In a way, it was nice to be back. This was something the old Dean would’ve done… the Dean that had lived before Jeff and died at his hands. This new Dean… the one left behind after Jeff would never be as carefree as his past-self had been.

Dean could barely even think of sex… let alone engaging in it with a stranger. Least of all, one he’d picked up in a bar. These days, he hardly even got hard. When he did, a feeling of emptiness and uncertainty accompanied the stiffening of his prick. If he tried to jerk off he’d get nauseous. It was maddening.

Yes, Cas had helped him tremendously. So had his counselor. But he was a nothing but a shadow of his former self now and he had no idea how long it would take to get his real personality back, or if that was even possible at all.

Loneliness descended with his melancholy mood and it stayed with him as he threw in the towel and went home around 9:00. It was obvious that Cas wasn’t going to be answering his calls. His only option now was to wait for Cas to contact him.

The house was barren and far too quiet without his friend. The light of lamps and the noise of the television didn’t fill the empty space and the sickening feeling of fear and loss swirled in his stomach as he drank in his chair. As his mind grew fuzzy from whiskey and pills he tried to console himself that he wasn’t alone. Either Bobby or Rufus was outside, watching the house. It was a small comfort.

As his chest ached with missing Cas, his mind flashed back to their conversation last night. Dean felt tears prick his eyes for the first time in a long time as he remembered his words to Cas, just last night. “Loneliness,” he had said, “You just miss me when I’m gone. You get lonely.” His heart ached with sympathy for Cas… where ever he was… he was missing Dean too.

 

 

 

The days were long now. Long and joyless. Bobby had used some old buddy somewhere to triangulate the position of Cas’ phone. They’d recovered it, but had been unable to gain any information from it. There were no missed calls other than Dean's and far too many finger prints to be helpful. Aside from the phone, there were no other traces of Cas.

Dean went to work every day, the Colt under his jumpsuit a constant reminder of all that was wrong in his life. He practiced his shooting at the scrapyard a few times and he went to happy hour with his work buddies. He went to places he’d been with Cas and moped around.

Last night he’d sat on the bench for hours at the park watching kids play and thinking about the day he’d followed Cas to this location… seen him follow a Dark for the first time.

Then today, he drove down the street where Jeff’s house had been. This was the first time he’d done that. He drove slowly as he gaped at the large empty lot. The houses on either side had been damaged in the explosion and both showed signs of recent repair. The house on the left was an odd shade of purple and was clearly being repainted now that the damage to it had been fixed. The new color, he thought, was quite an improvement.

The site of the blast was now empty, the debris having been carried away by heavy equipment whose tracks still marred the green grass of what was once a nice front yard. Seeing the place was strange. Not quite as menacing as he’d expected. It was stripped down… much like he was… just waiting for next phase.

His nights were harder now, without Cas. He was less comfortable when going to sleep because he knew that if he had a nightmare there would be no one to force his waking… he’d have to suffer there in Jeff’s basement until he had the strength to wake himself.

Lots of things were challenging about the days now too. But, above all else, Dean had a feeling in his chest. An ache of both loneliness and sadness that could not be ignored or drank away. It was relentless in its crushing weight and he carried it with him everywhere. Nothing anyone could say or do eased the burden for him and he found himself growing progressively angrier with each passing day. The one singular thing that brought him happiness was the knowledge that tomorrow was Friday. Tomorrow at six, he’d get to talk to Sam.

.


	8. Don't Leave a Trail That Aint Piss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ravenwolf36 for editing!
> 
> And cheers to Destiella for whom this update is perfectly timed ;)

Dean went about his work stoically, focused on the task at hand. Around him the constant drone of tools was nothing but white noise, punctuated by occasional shouts or bursts of laughter from the other guys on the shop floor. Normally he’d be frisky on Friday afternoon, like they all were. But not today.

He’d been melancholy since Cas disappeared and his mind was constantly spinning with the possibilities of what may have happened to his friend. Sadly, he was at a loss. So was his uncle. No one had any idea how to find Cas and bring him home.

But, today did have a small bright spot. Sam would be calling at six. With his mind clogged and his fingers working on auto pilot, Dean finished the small patch that would fix the exhaust leak on a ten year old Nissan. When that was finished, he cleaned up his station and locked up his tools. Once he’d taken a piss and washed up, he headed out. The other guys were boisterous, cajoling him to join them at the bar. He waved them off with a vague answer as he climbed behind the wheel of his Baby.

The traffic was a bit thicker than usual and it took him almost thirty minutes to arrive at his destination – the cemetery. He parked on the curb and walked purposefully though the gate and down the winding path. Towards the west end of the property he crested a hill and began scanning the lines of tombstones for a familiar looking mausoleum. When he spotted it, he cut across the grass. Keeping his eyes on his surroundings, he walked briskly between the rows of grave makers until he arrived at his destination. The stone looked different in the daylight than it had at night… a little less haunting. There was no one near him at the moment, though the area was far from deserted.

His heart ached a little as he remembered the night he’d sat here in the damp grass and asked Cas to come home with him. Sitting down and leaning back against the stone he found himself wondering what had brought Cas to this place and why he’d chosen to rest here. That line of thinking took his mind to a darker place… the one that lingered on where Cas may be now. It didn’t take long for a pit of despair to rise up around Dean as he leaned on the granite tombstone. He hadn’t realized how far his thoughts had wandered until his generic ringtone started going off. The number was unfamiliar to him, but since the time displayed was 5:59, there was really only one person it could be.

Dean swiped his screen to answer the call, looking around to be sure there was no one within ear shot.

“Sammy?”

“Hey, Dean,” replied Sammy’s soft spoken voice.

“Hey, how are you? Are you okay?”

“Well, I’m with Dad,” he answered in a whisper, “So that’s a loaded question.”

“Where are you guys?”

“Can’t say.”

“Yeah, I get it. How long do we have?”

“Not too long. Dad’s pacing.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, “Bobby and Rufus are up my ass. They watch me constantly.”

“Yeah, Dad’s not exactly letting me out on a long leash either.”

“It’s better that way,” reassured Dean, “better safe than sorry.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re still sleeping in your own bed,” lamented Sam.

“How is he?”

“You mean Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Angry. You know how it is.”

“How long do you think this little road trip will last?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam on heavy exhale, “I was hoping you could tell me.”

“M’fraid not. Is there anything you need?”

“Well, a meal that wasn’t microwaved in a mini mart would be nice.”

“I can’t help you with that,” laughed Dean.

“I’ve been having dreams.”

“What kind? Are you writing them down?”

“Yeah. But there’s not much to write. These are different.”

“Different how?”

“No one dies. It’s just a girl… the same one every time… a brunette with dark eyes. She’s beautiful. When I see her she seems anxious… she talks to me but I can’t hear her. It’s like she’s trying to tell me something but I can’t hear or understand any of it.”

“How many times have you dreamed of her?”

“Three nights. And I saw her once while I was awake.”

“So… three dreams and one vision?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait,” said Dean flatly, “Have you talked to Dad about this at all?”

“No. We never tell Dad about my freaky shit. Besides,” said Sam, lowering his voice, “These dreams are different than the others… and…”

“And?” prodded Dean.

“And, they started the first night that I was on the road with Dad.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. Maybe it’s a coincidence. But maybe not. Dean, I think this woman I’m seeing might have something to do with Dad.”

“Sammy… I wish I was with you.”

“Talk to Bobby. See if you can get them to let us talk more than once a week.”

“I will.”

“Dean, I have to go.”

“What? Already?”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Sam softly, “Dad says time’s up.”

“Sammy…” Dean said into dead air, but it was too late. The call was ended. He glanced down at the phone in his hands, his thumb hovering over the phone number that Sam had just called from. He wanted to call back, get just a few more minutes with his brother. But, in the end, common sense won out. The likelihood of Sam’s burner phone still being in his hands was slim. Most likely, it was already in a dumpster behind a convenience store. By now Sam and John were already climbing into the cab of Johns black GMC pickup to make their exit. But even if, by some miracle, they still had the phone with them, John would never let Sam answer it. Frustrated and angry, Dean got to his feet and prepared to leave.

As he drove back towards his place, Dean already wanted to talk to Bobby. The once a week call was just not going to be enough. And, there were issues they needed to discuss… like Sam’s dreams and how to handle them. Dean had no idea how to proceed. It seemed that if there was ever a time to bring John in on Sam’s visions - that now was the time.

But then again, Sammy’s visions were changing and there was a possibility that it something to do with John. Perhaps his brother was right about keeping their dad in the dark. He drove to the bar where they normally hung out after work, hoping that Bobby would be there. But his car wasn’t in the lot. Dean, worked up and frustrated, needed to talk to his uncle. So, he called, getting out of his car and walking a few paces away from it first. When his surrogate father answered, Dean had to work to keep his tone in check.

“Bobby, we need to get together. Wanna come have a beer?”

“You with the boys?” asked Bobby.

“I’m outside,” he answered, “haven’t gone in yet.”

“Don’t,” said Bobby firmly, “Meet me at that place where you got your nose broke.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, go now.”

Dean hung up and moved back to his car. He turned back out onto 18th and headed west a half mile. The bar that Bobby had been referring to was closed with a for sale sign in the window, so he drove into the vacant lot across the street to wait. When his uncle pulled in, driving an older mustang that he’d recently begun restoring, they both exited their cars. Bobby pulled on a ball cap and the two swept each other for listening devices like paranoid idiots. When they were satisfied, they moved to lean against the cinderblock wall of another vacant building. Without a single business open on this block, the area had the ambiance of a ghost town. There wasn’t a soul in sight and was eerily quiet considering they were in a big city.

“What’s goin' on?” asked Bobby.

“It’s Sam.”

“Well, I figured as much. You were set to get a call from him at 6:00 and I got a call from you at 6:15.”

“I should be with him Bobby. He’s got nobody to help him. He’s havin' dreams and shit.”

“Maybe it’s time to clue John in on the dreams…”

“Not so sure bout that,” interrupted Dean, “He says the dreams are different now that he’s with Dad; he thinks maybe his new dreams are because of Dad… or connected to him somehow.”

“All the more reason…”

“Bobby,” barked Dean, interrupting again, “I should be with him. Especially with Cas gone.”

The two men looked at each other for a long time.

“C’mon Bobby,” Dean complained, pushing himself away from the wall and starting to pace, “What am I even doing here? Just waiting for Cas to come back? We both know he ain't gonna. Either he ran off or he’s been taken.”

“Vegas money’s on taken,” nodded Bobby, pulling Dean back flush with the building. “And you’re needed right where you’re at.”

“I call bullshit. I ain't doing fuck-all but waiting here for a man that’s never coming back. I should be out lookin' for him. Or helping Sam. But no. You’ve got me sittin' in my damn house like piece of cheese on a mousetrap.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“No Bobby, there’s not,” said Dean, starting to get elevated again, “The only two things that would’ve brought anyone to my house are fuckin gone. There’s no Sam and no Cas. The only people interested in knockin' on my door is the goddam IRS!”

“Look kid, I know you wanna find Cas. But the trail’s cold. And I know you wanna help your brother too. So let’s focus on how you can do that - from here. Now think. What does he need?”

Dean thought for minute. “I guess,” he finally said, “If dad’s not gonna know about the visions, then he’s gonna need someone else to talk to about them. Someone who can help him sort out what they mean and what to do. He needs a daily call, not a weekly one. From you or me… someone who knows the history and stuff. Maybe Ellen?”

He looked at Bobby hopefully when he suggested Ellen's involvement. He knew that John would be far more willing to accommodate a motherly call from Ellen than a nosy one from the son he’s currently blackballing. He watched Bobby give a nod.

“Ellen,” he agreed. “I’ll see what I can do. Now, what’s changed with the visions?”

Bobby listened intently as he was told about the beautiful, dark-eyed brunette that called to Sam in his dreams; but the two kept their conversation short and quickly parted company. On his way home, Dean did stop by and have a few beers with the guys. If nothing else, he thought, it would take his mind of his troubles for a short while.

As he laughed with his friends, shot pool and drank beer he wondered why Rufus or Bobby or whoever was supposed to watching him, didn’t just come in and watch him from the comfort of a booth or bar stool. He didn’t think on it long though. It was surprising how quickly he’d gotten comfortable with being observed.

When he got home Dean didn’t even take off his boots. He took a leak and then settled in his chair. The slight beer buzz he’d picked up at the bar was fading and he immediately began sipping whiskey as he flipped through the channels. Drowsiness was setting in before he even decided on a show to watch and it made him hopeful for a deep and dreamless sleep. Once, he jolted awake as he felt the bottle start to slip from his hands. He took one last swig and then set it on the end table, relaxing in the chair to sleep take him.

How long he’d been sleeping, Dean wasn’t sure. But a buzzing in his pocket woke him and he shifted his weight in the chair to pull his phone out. Squinting at the screen he saw the call was from Bobby.

“Bobby?” he answered groggily.

“Front door.”

Just as the words were uttered, Dean heard a click. It was unmistakable. Had he not locked the door?

Hazy senses cleared in one heart beat and Dean sprang from his chair like a cat, one hand still holding the phone and the other reaching for his pistol. His eyes search the encroaching shadows while the flickering light from the television behind him plays tricks on his eyes. As he sweeps the room from left to right with his gun pointed into the darkness, his thumb pulls the safety down and the hammer back.

“Bobby?” he says into the phone.

“It’s Cas. He’s in.”

“Cas?” Dean responds, uncertain.

Bobby’s tinny voice comes through the speaker near his ear with a “Yes,” just as Cas’ own deep voice reaches him from the darkness, very real and very close.

“Hello Dean.”

“Fuck!” cursed Dean into the phone, “Bobby it’s Cas.”

“I know that you idjit,” Bobby retorted, “I called you, remember?”

“Thanks,” said Dean, dropping the phone to the seat of his chair and relaxing his weapon hand.

“I didn’t know you owned a firearm,” said Cas softly as Dean pushed the safety back up and holstered the Colt.

“Yeah, well,” he replied, “You’re not the only one with a shady past.”

As they spoke, they took small steps toward each other and once Dean’s hands were free, he reached for Cas, pulling his friend into a warm embrace.

“Man,” he whispered, “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“Did you miss me Dean? I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he countered, “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Dean, I apologize but there is no time to discuss this now. We have minutes only. Get anything you can carry but can’t live without – we must go now.”

“What?”

“Dean, now,” prompted Cas, face impassive.

Dean was moving as he spoke, pushing past Cas to the front window and yanking up the blinds… his signal to Bobby that assistance is needed. “How long will we be gone?”

“I don’t know if you will ever return to this place,” said Cas ominously. Dean put his back to Cas and ran for the bedroom. He went straight to his dresser and picked up the framed picture of his mother. Not wanting to waste time, he turned it upside down and thumped the glass side twice. With the first impact the glass crunched and with the second the shards rained down. He flipped it back over and plucked her photo from it to stuff in his shirt pocket. As he turned back towards the door of his room, he heard Bobby come through his front door and greet Cas. “In here!” Dean barked, reaching down to yank his phone charger from the wall and ball it up into the pocket of his jeans.

As Bobby appeared in his doorway Dean met his eye. “I have one minute. What do I need besides Mom's picture, my phone and my piece?”

“Wallet?”

“Got it.”

“Get movin' then.”

Dean stared straight ahead, unmoving. It felt as if there was something important he was forgetting.

“What?” pressed Bobby, “You wondering if you’ll need your pompoms?”

Normally he would have laughed. But not this time. Trading uncertainty for brash anger, Dean shoved past Bobby and Cas. “What the fuck is goin' on here?” he yelled as he plucked his car keys from the counter and his jacket from the back of a kitchen chair.

“Leave those,” said Cas, indicating his car keys.

“My Baby,” protested Dean, still as a statue.

“I have a car. Let’s go Dean.”

“Where’s the fire?” asked Bobby.

“They’re coming,” answered Cas, “They’re coming for Dean.”

“Who’s coming?”

“Well, to be precise, I am coming for Dean. They’ve sent me to kill him. It will take approximately three minutes for them to realize that I haven’t. We must go.”

“No,” said Bobby, pulling out his Glock 22. Dean heard the telltale click as his uncle readied the weapon.

“No?” Dean and Cas asked in unison.

“Cheese,” Bobby replied looking at Dean, “You’re the cheese, remember kid?”

“Dean is not cheese,” interrupted Cas, “No harm will come to him. Stand aside.”

Dean looked between the two and asked again, “What the fuck?”

“Dean we must go. Say good-bye,” asserted Cas, eyes full of righteous indignation.

“What kind of a team is coming?” pressed Bobby as he stood toe-to-toe with Cas.

“No team. Just Ana.”

“Ana?”

“ANA 064,” answered Cas, gesturing at the tattoo on his own wrist as explanation, “She’s relentless. We must go.”

“Let’s go then,” agreed Bobby.

“What?” demanded Dean, his posture rigid, “It’s three against one. I’ll take those odds.”

“C’mon boy,” said Bobby, shoving Dean toward the door, “If they only need to send one… then the three of us are no match. Get your freckled ass movin' son.”

Dean nodded, the logic making sense in his head. His feet were moving now, keeping pace as he was sandwiched between Cas and Bobby. They moved out the door and into the dark together.

“This way,” said Cas firmly. Dean follows without question. As he glances behind him, he sees Bobby bringing up the rear, weapon ready as they move quickly around the side of the house. Cas ducks around the corner of the privacy fence that splits Dean’s lot from the one backing up to it. The three of them move stealthily along the fence line and emerge on Chestnut Avenue, the next street over from Dean’s. Cas takes long and purposeful strides over the sidewalk and into the street, stepping around a huge eyesore on the curb. It was horrid… a late 70’s Lincoln Continental… in gold. Hideous.

As they follow, Dean watches Cas open the driver’s door.

“Get in,” Cas orders.

Just as Dean moves to climb in the car, the unmistakable sound of breaking glass reaches their ears. “Now,” says Cas as he slides behind the wheel. Both he and Bobby hop in and Cas peels out. Dean works to balance on the plush seat as Cas jerks the car around to the left at the end of the block.

“Where are we headed?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know,” says Cas. “Bobby are you coming with us?”

“That depends,” Bobby says from the backseat, “Is ANA 064 headed to my house?”

“No,” answered Cas. Dean watched Bobby’s shoulders relax in relief as he realized that Ellen wasn’t in danger there. “She’s behind us,” finished Cas.

Dean whips his head around and sees headlights gaining on them as they roar down East 23rd. Looking back at Cas, he finds his attention fixed on the man’s profile. Steely blue eyes are locked on the road ahead, flicking to the mirrors every few seconds. The man’s face is a mask of concentration as he cranks the wheel and skids the T-intersection onto Prospect.

Watching his own side mirror, Dean searches the dark road behind them to see if headlights will re-appear. As soon as he caught sight of them, he started turning in his seat. He had a finger on the window control and as the glass lowered, wind cut into the car. While he waited for the window to go down, Dean chanced a glance at Bobby who was looking intently at Cas.

In just a few precious seconds, the headlights had moved in close and through the back window Dean could see an 80’s model Buick bearing down on them. He settled his left knee into the seat cushion and braced his right foot against the hump that rose up from the floor between his feet and Cas’ feet. Without speaking he leaned out the window and braced himself against both inertia and wind to begin squeezing off rounds at the car behind him.

Dean counted in his head as he fired, aiming for tires and radiator. When the Buick began to swerve wildly, he knew he’d done some damage. But, with a smoke billowing out, the car began gaining on them again.

“I’ve got three shots left,” hollered Dean to Bobby as he slid back down in his seat.

“Got her,” hollered Bobby, turning and aiming at the rear window. The car exploded with noise as Bobby shot out the back window and began plugging round after round into the driver’s side of the Buick. Dean lifted his weapon as he watched the Buick continue gaining to pull up around the driver’s side of their Lincoln.

“Cas!” hollered Dean over the nose of his pistol, “Down!”

Cas immediately ducked his head into his lap, the car staying it’s course miraculously well. Dean used one of his last three shots to blow out Cas' window. He could see the driver and was stunned at the resilience as she moved up alongside of them. Her red hair whipped violently in the wind but her face was focused and showing no emotion. When Cas dipped his head to allow Dean a shot, she dipped hers too and accelerated. It was impossible to line up a decent shot - and with only two left he wasn’t taking any chances. From the backseat, Bobby was firing and the noise of it was thunderous inside the car.

Cas lifted his head back up and took a swerve toward Ana’s vehicle. She swerved right along with him, the bodies of the cars never even making contact. The street here was three lanes, one northbound and one southbound. The center lane was for divided use, anyone turning either direction was meant to use it. Currently the Buick, driven by what could only be ANA 064, was barreling down that center lane. It was lucky the hour was so late. The streets were all but deserted. Alongside them, the decrepit shells of brick and steel buildings whooshed past; empty warehouses and vacant store fronts… the occasional house or small apartment building.

As Ana pulled ahead of them, Dean felt Cas accelerate too. The Buick may have a smaller engine, but it was also a much lighter vehicle. Their huge, antiquated sedan was cumbersome and sluggish in comparison. Ana could easily out maneuver them.

As Bobby sat back to reload, Anna braked and dropped back. Dean watched helplessly as she lined up her front end with their rear quarter panel. He’d seen this maneuver before. She was going to swerve in and tap them to set the Lincoln spinning.

“Cas!”

“I know,” said Cas over the noise of the wind.

Cas’ eyes were locked on Ana’s vehicle in his mirrors. His face was still stoic, much like Ana’s. No emotion, just precision movements and calculated responses. Dean braced his hand on the dash as Cas hit the brakes. The entire car pitched forward and lurched to the left. The impact was jarring. This was no tap. Cas had rocked Ana’s Buick. As it spun out ahead of them and across their path, Dean was watching it happen. Time seemed to slow down and he found himself seeing it happen in slow motion. Instinct alone had his firing hand moving into position.

With one hand braced on the dash and his other arm locking straight out infront of him Dean took aim at the fiery red head through glass and squeezed off his last two shots in quick succession. Squinting to avoid shards of spraying glass, Dean lost his focus. When his eyes opened wide again, there were two blooms of white where the bullets had broken through the windshield and left the safety glass splintered but not shattered in their wake. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and look past them. By the time he zeroed in on the Buick again, he was watching it spin around to his right.

Cas didn’t hesitate. Both he and Bobby were thrown back against their seats as he put the pedal to the floor; Dean in the front and Bobby still the back. Both men turned in their seats to watch the road behind them as Ana’s Buick spun once more before skidding to a stop at the curb. She was growing smaller behind them as Cas continued to build up speed. Looking around them, Dean marveled at how uninterrupted they’d been during the chase. There were no pedestrians, no other vehicles and no cops. Just nothing.

“What now?” Dean asked, looking over at Cas.

“I have no official plan.”

Dean turned to look ahead again as Cas took a hard left, rubber squealing on cement. As they cornered, he could feel the passenger side coming up off the ground, the Lincoln riding two tires. The entire chassis clunked and groaned as it set back down when Cas pulled out of the turn and accelerated on the straightaway. Dean was stunned when Cas took another hard left just a few blocks over and began traveling north again.

“What the fuck Cas? Why are you headed back to her? Go south!”

“No Dean, we head north. This is what’s unexpected.”

“Based on what?”

“Training we both received.”

“You and Ana? You’ve both had the same training?”

“Yes.”

“Then won’t she second guess this too?”

“Perhaps.”

Dean shouts to Bobby, “We need a new plan!”

“We have a minute, maybe two,” says Cas dryly, “We need to disappear.”

“Get to the scrapyard,” shouts Bobby from the backseat.

“Yeah” Dean affirms, looking for the name of the next cross street to get his bearings. “I’d feel better if we were a couple blocks to the east, but yeah Cas, head north until 18th street.”

“No,” countered Bobby from the backseat, “Best to stay on the small roads. Take 23rd over to Woodland and head west on 19th.”

Dean was turning to face Bobby now, “What happens when we get there?”

“Well, that’s my stop,” Bobby said calmly. Then, gesturing to the Lincoln they were riding in, he said, “you can ditch this in the yard and I’ll make sure it’s taken care of. You boys can take my Chevelle. It’s parked behind the paint booth. I was getting ready to tape her up.”

“My baby…” lamented Dean.

“Swap me,” says Bobby, holding out his keys for Dean. He takes them, patting his own pockets down for Baby’s keys. There’s no keys in his pockets, but he’s certain he’d had them in his hand when they’d left the house. Looking around frantically now, he spots them on the floor at his feet. He picks them up and pitches them to Bobby as the Lincoln whips into another drastic turn.

“I hate having an empty gun,” he complained, “and not having my own car.”

Bobby hollers loudly over the wind and engine noise, “We’ll trade back later. And there’s ammo in the storage shed… the locked cabinet in the back. The key is on my key ring.”

“Thanks Bobby.”

“Dean,” he says forcefully, reaching over the seatback to drag Dean in by the collar, “Things are gonna be different now. You remember bein' on the road with your Daddy when you were young?”

“Yeah,” he says in response, wondering why Bobby’s bringing that up now.

“That’s your life now. Until we figure out what the hell’s goin' on, you’re back to that. No using your cards” says Bobby as he pulls out his wallet and digs out all his cash. “Dump your phone… aim for the river as you go over. Pick up a burner. Never call me from the same number twice and watch what the fuck you say. Shoot me a blank text for a 911 on my end okay? If you send me that… I’ll take Ellen and we’ll crawl so far underground that even your daddy won’t find us, got it?”

“Yeah Bobby,” said Dean, glancing down at the fistful of cash that Bobby had thrust into his hands. He then found himself bracing against the seat as Cas takes another out of control turn. He stuffs the cash down deep in his pocket then turns to Bobby again, wanting to say thanks and not knowing how.

“Keep your asses off the interstates,” hollers Bobby, still giving instructions, “Stay on side streets and backroads. Head to that place where I took you to look at that busted up Ford we almost bought for Sam. It should be a good place to get some shut eye. I’ll be in touch.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. He wanted to shove his body over the seat and give Bobby a fierce hug.

“Our time is up,” said Cas forcefully.

Looking up, Dean saw red and blue lights a few blocks behind them, gaining fast. “Well this makes sense,” he said as he realized they were now the subject of a police chase, “We shot up Prospect like gangsters.”

Cas was accelerating again, the car bottoming out violently each time they hit the dip at a cross street.

“Take Holmes,” Dean ordered, looking back and forth between Cas and the lights closing on them.

“Switch me seats,” barked Bobby from the back.

Dean leaned in over Cas’ shoulder and used the space behind him to swing his legs over the seat one at a time. Once he was in the back, Bobby climbed over him to the front.

“I’ll take this heap and keep movin... keep the heat on me. You boys take my car like we planned.”

Dean never took his eyes off Bobby, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss a word.

“This has to look right from the air,” shouted Bobby, “We tear in there and when we pass through the wash bay, you both bail out and hide. I’ll take the wheel and keep drivin. Wait at least three solid minutes before you move. I’ll tear hell through the yard and back out again. Take them with me. You wait long enough that nothing overhead see’s movement until all the attention is back on this piece of shit.” Dean has to grin as he sees Cas’ face turn sour when Bobby for insults the Lincoln he’s driving.

Bobby was shouting over the wind noise and the engine, still giving orders. “Once it’s clear, you boys head out in my car. Exit to Charlotte Street from my house, not the scrapyard exit. Go where I toldja and wait there.”

“Yeah, I got it Bobby,” Dean answers, his eyes watching the police lights behind them. There’s a few blocks between them and the cops; Bobby’s plan can work. His eyes shift back to the road ahead as they near the shop.

“Up here,” said Dean to Cas, pointing towards their upcoming turn, “Next block on the right.”

Cas extinguished the headlights and the street ahead dropped into blackness. Dean’s glad Cas thought of it. The lack of lights to see from a distance will make it harder for their pursuers to know exactly where they turned. He squints, his eyes adjusting too slow to adequately search the darkness ahead. But he’s looking for the entrance to help Cas find it. “There!” he shouts, pointing as they approach it.

Cas brakes sharply and turns in, accelerating again as he passes by the shop on the main concourse.

“To the left,” Dean says urgently, “See it?”

“Yes Dean,” answers Cas, his voice far steadier than Dean’s own.

“Slow it down,” ordered Bobby.

Cas did as told and after racing through town with the needle hovering around ninety, this feels like a crawl. Anyone seeing them from the air likely thought that they were trying to turn around.

Bobby had one hand on the wheel now and was sliding close to Cas. Dean, in the backseat, moved toward the driver’s side and put his hand on the lever to open to his door, body tense and preparing to jump.

“You two are out in three…. Two…. One...”

As soon as Bobby says ‘one,’ Dean swings the door open and lunges out. He’d never leapt from a moving vehicle before but since they were going relatively slow, he’d assumed it would be easy. It wasn’t. When he’d ejected himself, he’d shoved the door open so hard that it actually snapped back on him while he was airborne. His body registered the thump of it, but felt no pain. His direction changes mid-air from the collision though, and his eyes take in the cement floor and cinderblock wall that will break his momentum.

He tucks his head in and tries to force a somersault as he lands. But sadly, he wound up hitting at an awkward angle and bearing the brunt of the impact on one shoulder rather than diffusing it. He tumbled then, like a sack of potatoes and landed with a thud against the wall.

Immediately on the heels of his landing he moves to pull his legs up under him, but he can do nothing. He can’t even draw a breath. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s had the wind knocked out of him. He’d experienced this feeling as a child after falling out of a tree. But, the knowledge that breath would return was of no assistance. His body rebelled anyway, kicking and flailing with his mouth gaping open as he tried in vain to suck in a much needed breath.

Cas’ hands are on him in an instant. Dean feels his body being pulled and dragged and he kicks his feet in an effort to get them under him. Cas is faster though, Dean’s legs scrambling but never actually contributing as he’s pulled towards a door on the opposite side of the wash bay. He’s starting to feel dizzy, like he might black out. His vision is swimming as Cas hauls him up and presses him against the wall.

“Push down,” says Cas, buttressing Dean against the wall with his own weight, “Like you are on the toilet. Push down.”

Dean forces himself to listen, to overcome his panic. He focuses on doing as he’s instructed, squeezing his body from the inside like he’s trying to push out a massive shit. Relief is immediate. He sucks in a ragged breath and can finally focus his eyes gratefully on Cas’ blue ones.

Police sirens are getting louder by the moment and Dean feels Cas' hands pulling on him again. He’s shoved through a door and into a dark storage room. The smell of soap is strong here and the floor is damp beneath their feet. This is a room he’s only been in once. It houses the mechanical aspect of the car wash… the compressors and hot water heaters as well as the pallets of soap and salt that are used here.

Pressing forward, like a little mouse, he wedges himself back behind a pallet of bagged salt. Cas follows him and the two of them slide down with their backs to the wall. Before Dean can even speak, Cas is pushing him in closer. Dean looks over at Cas who is straining to looking at his watch in the dark.

From outside they can hear the sirens which had been growing steadily louder as Dean had been gasping for breath. There was a roar now too… a helicopter moving in. The sirens from the police vehicles swelled from all around them and as they hid. And at one point, they heard the approach of a heavy engine… the Lincoln. When it roared through the wash bay from the opposite direction, Dean could feel the vibration in the floor. He knew, based on the direction of the car that Bobby was heading back out the way they’d come in. He was barreling towards the exit now, and behind him only by a second or two were four police vehicles. As each shot through the wash bay behind Bobby, the force of them shook the building and he could feel it in his limbs as they crouched on the floor.

Dean scrutinized Cas who was looking intently at the watch on his wrist. The ear shattering sound of wailing police sirens was fading now, presumably as they followed Bobby northbound on Holmes Street. The thrumming of helicopter blades lasted longer, though. Dean could imagine it, hovering above and shining spotlights around the yard. No wonder Bobby had instructed them to stay still for a few minutes before moving out. Once the chopper was certain that there was nothing more to see in the scrapyard, it would resume the active chase.

“One minute,” whispered Cas. Dean nodded and prepared his mind for what would happen when they began moving again. He needed to get to the shed for ammo and then back across the open yard to the paint booth where get Bobby’s old Chevelle waited. Dean patted his pockets, needing to assure himself that everything he needed was still with him.

In his left front pocket he felt keys. In his right he felt the soft roll of cash. He plucked his phone out. The glass front was cracked so badly that he couldn’t make out the time.

“Keep still,” commanded Cas.

“Why?” whispered Dean.

“Possible infrared.”

“Well then we’re fucked anyway, right?” argued Dean.

“I don’t think so,” he said, nodding towards the huge cylindrical tanks next to them, “That’s hot water… for the car wash, right?”

“Yeah,” agreed Dean, understanding now. He’d only pressed back here to hide in case an officer opened the door and looked inside. But Cas had really been thinking when he’d pressed in tightly behind Dean. As long as they didn’t move around, their heat signatures would likely not be distinguishable. From above, they’d probably appear to just be part of the mechanics of the car wash. It was brilliant.

The rhythmic cutting sound of the helicopter blades began to move away from them now, seeming to head to the north.

“That’s time,” said Cas, “Let’s go.”

“How long do we have?”

“Minutes only,” said Cas. “Ana won’t be fooled as easily as the authorities.”

Dean set out for the shed immediately, Cas behind him. It was at this point that he noticed his knee was wobbly and unstable. He favored it as much as he could while still moving quickly. They pushed into the shed and Dean pulled out the keys, unlocking the cabinet in the back.

“Attaboy Bobby,” praised Dean out loud as his hands found not only the ammo he needed but also Bobby’s back up pistol, a Colt Mustang Plus II. He tossed it to Cas.

“I haven’t carried a gun since Tessa,” Cas said softly, turning the small weapon in his hands.

“Tessa?” Dean asked without turning.

“I don’t like being armed.”

“Well, I know you’ve got a wire in your pocket Cas. What’s the difference?”

“A gun is too easy. Too indiscriminant.”

“We can debate this later,” said Dean harshly, “Will you just hold it for me?” he asked, softening a little.

“Of course,” said Cas, turning towards the door, “Do we have all we need? We’re running out of time.”

“Yeah,” nodded Dean, cradling a few boxes in his hands as he gimped out, “Let’s get outta here.”

Dean could tell that Cas was moving slowly for him and he felt bad about it. But if he ran, he chanced blowing his knee completely and then where would they be?

It felt like an hour spent crossing the yard. They climbed in the car and as the scent of Bobby hit him, Dean wondered how his surrogate father was doing in his police chase. Surely as an ex-agent, the man had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Dean looked over at Cas as he started up the engine. His friend’s eyes were clear and focused and as Dean put the car in gear he smiled. This was the first moment he’d had where there was time to enjoy the fact that Cas was back. He eased the car past the privacy fence that surrounded Bobby and Ellen’s yard and exited via their driveway. As they passed, his eyes searched the windows. When he saw Ellen looking out through the drapes at the front window, Dean raised his hand to her and his throat tightened as she raised hers in reply.

He knew that she’d likely received some sort of alert from Bobby, probably the very moment that Bobby had first seen Dean’s blinds draw up. It was safe to say that she had no details… only the knowledge that something big was going down. Dean was sure that she wondered why the police had chased a strange car through the salvage yard between her residence and Singer’s Automotive. And now, she’d heard her husband’s car start up in the silence that followed.

Not only was Dean sad that he couldn’t spare a moment to go hug her and give her the information she needed, but he was also flooded with guilt as he realized that her eyes were raking the windows of the Chevelle for any sign of her husband and coming up empty. His heart went out to her.

He turned out onto Charlotte as he’d been instructed and headed in the opposite direction of the police chase. As he turned back out onto 19th street he felt very vulnerable. He didn’t speed or draw attention to himself as he headed east. When the road merged into 18th, Dean felt his pulse kick up a notch. This was a busier road and he had no choice but to use it for several blocks. Once the road took a jog to the north and became 17th street, the scenery turned residential and the road became smaller, only two lanes now. It was a relief.

They continued for about twenty blocks until he saw the sign for Blue River and pulled to a stop on the bridge. It was a small river but it would do. Leaving the car to idle, he walked to the edge of the bridge and looked over the side. Cas followed him, curious. He pulled his phone from his pocket, a little sad to say good bye to all his music, his contacts and his link with the outside world. But, knowing Bobby was right, Dean pulled the back off and plucked the battery out, tossing three separate pieces over the side and into the water below.

“Got anything you need to get rid of?” Dean asked.

Cas silently went about taking off his watch and pitched it over the side. They got back in the car and forged ahead. Bobby had told him where to go, he just hadn’t said anything specific. He’d told Dean to return to the place where they’d looked at a car for Sam. It was impossible to forget the pile of shit they’d gone to see or its location; another scrapyard… some buddy of Bobby’s. Dean couldn’t even remember the name of the place until he reached the end of 17th street and slowed to a crawl. To their left was a twelve foot chain link fence and locked gate with a sign hanging from it that identified the place as “Little Will’s.”

It looked even sketchier in the dark than it had when he’d seen it the first time in broad daylight. This place made Bobby’s scrapyard look like Club Med. Everywhere he looked Dean’s eyes saw debris. Trash floated about on the breeze and stuck in the chain link. To the side of the entrance were trash cans, some standing and some on their sides. There was a discarded washing machine rusting there and even on the outside of the fence, junk cars were lined up.

He passed up the gated entrance of Will’s and crept forward down the road with his lights extinguished. Officially 17th Street ended here. But where the pavement stopped, Dean was able to continue down a dirt path which was lined on both sides with junk cars. Eventually, the dirt path opened up into a large yard where the sorting was obviously done. As Dean turned a large circle there, his eyes swept over their surroundings, lit only by the faint light of a waning moon.

To north was the gated portion of Will’s yard. Straight ahead was empty ground banked by green… the tall grass, shrubs and trees of vacant land with no manmade structures. To the south, a few hundred yards beyond the sorting yard, was an abandoned factory building. Even at night and even at a glance Dean could tell by its rough condition that no one had been keeping it up. It was three stories high and most of the windows were broken out of it. It was good to know it was there. They could park here and hike to it if need be… take up residence on the top floor where they could easily watch the land sprawling below and guard their position.

Normally, abandoned industrial spaces like this one were dangerous. They filled quickly with the worst kind of characters… those seeking refuge from the prying eyes of both citizens and law enforcement as they cooked meth, shot up heroin or even robbed and raped those who were camped there but were so mired down in illegal activity that they couldn’t call the cops.

This place was likely safe, though. It was too far from everything to be feasible for those kind of derelicts to bother setting up house. Those types had to stay close to their dealers and pimps. Here, on the outskirts of town, he and Cas would likely be the only ones interested in the space.

As he completed his slow circle, he straightened out the wheel and headed back the way he’d come. The large open land of the sorting area dwindled back down to the small dirt road they’d driven in on. Dean swung the Chevelle up behind a long line of rusted out and broken down cars. Considering that Bobby had only primed and not yet painted the car, it would fit in nicely with the junky looking vehicles around them. It was a perfect hiding spot.

Dean carefully positioned the car for a quick getaway before cutting the engine. Then, as quiet descended, he gestured to the vacant factory building he’d noticed. Its silhouette could barely be distinguished from the night sky.

“That,” said Dean, “is where we’re heading if we get made.”

“Made?”

“Found,” explained Dean. He left the keys dangling from the ignition and checked himself again for his valuables. His wallet was still tucked into his back pocket and he pulled it out now, counting the bills Bobby had given him and adding them to it. Once that was tucked away, he patted his shirt pocket and smiled when he felt his mother’s picture still with him.

He now officially had nothing else to do but wait for Bobby. Depending on how things had gone down with the cops… it could be a while. He looked over at Cas. The man was dressed much like he had been when Dean had first seen him… a dark suit, a tan trench coat. The only difference was that now, all his clothing seemed crisp and new.

“What happened Cas?” he asked.

“I don’t know where to start,” Cas admitted with a deep sigh, “But I remember Dean. I remember everything.”

“Well, that’s good, right?” he tried, wanting to reach out but holding himself back.

“I liked it better when I didn’t know.”

“The things you know now…” said Dean hesitantly, “…do they change things for us?”

“Of course things have changed for us Dean, we’re carrying guns. We’re hiding. We used to watch TV together.”

Dean chuckled and abandoned that line of questions entirely. “So, I dropped you off as usual and you disappeared. It’s been days. What happened to you?”

“I was taken,” said Cas, working to roll down his window. Dean did the same, noticing how quickly the car had gotten stuffy.

“You were taken by who?”

“A team that was sent for me. They pulled me into a van and brought me back home.”

“Home?”

“Not a home such as you have Dean. Not a dwelling. But everyone calls it ‘home’ so I have no other word for it. It’s a large place with white walls and white floors and sharp lighting. It smells of antiseptic. There are many rooms and I have only been in a few of them. I have brothers and sisters there. Ana is one of them.”

“Ana has a tattoo just like yours right?”

“Yes. And so does ZAR 067.”

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“I know Ana and Zar well. Our rooms are proximal. However, there are other siblings that we have seen a few times. We interact with them for tests but their rooms are on the other side of a door that’s locked and guarded.”

“How many of them are there?”

“Just two that I know by name. There is MIC 045 and LUC 048. I don’t care for either of them.”

“Why not?”

“They are powerful and they know it.”

“You said you see them for tests?”

“Yes.”

“What kinds of tests?”

“I’m not sure I can explain. The tests are all the same in some ways and different in others. All tests are conducted in the testing area. It feels like we’re outside. But we’re not. The environments are different each time, and we’re brought there separately. Before entering the environment, we’re given a paper with instructions on it. It’s usually a challenge… something we’re meant to accomplish in the environment. It’s difficult because none of us have the same challenge. Sometimes our siblings will help us and sometimes not. Sometimes we’re required to hurt each other as part of the challenge and then other times we’re required to help each other. It’s very difficult. Often we don’t know if we’ve completed successfully or not.”

“Fuck,” whispered Dean.

“I am broken. That’s what I was told when I was taken from you. They said they’d been letting me wander because they wanted to study me and find out why I never do what I’m meant to do. They’d been watching me while I was with you. After I was brought back home, they started putting me into the environment again. It was strange at first to not have my siblings with me. But then I started seeing you there. My challenges were always to either take something from you or get you to tell me something… sometimes even to kill you.”

Dean watched Cas’ face as he explained what had happened to him in the best way he could. Then, he watched his friend’s face crumble as he continued.

“It hurt so much. I had the ache… the lonely ache from missing you. And then you were there. But it wasn’t really you. I could see you and touch you but you weren’t bright and your eyes weren’t shiny and you had no kindness in you.”

Dean turned now, reaching across the empty space between them and pulling Cas into a hug. He couldn’t wait another second to feel his arms wrap around the man… not after all he’d just said. It was silent for a long time as they held each other.

“So,” Dean said on an exhale as they pulled apart, “They want me dead, huh?”

“Yes.”

“And they were training you to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why send you when they could have just sent Ana? I mean,” said Dean with a chuckle, “We never woulda seen her comin'. Why put so much work into getting you to do it?”

“I can’t know their reasons Dean, I can only guess. But, I think, they just wanted to see if they could get me to do it. Naomi says that I never do as I’m meant to. I didn’t know that they were watching when I came to your dwelling… I didn’t remember them at all. But I led them to you. Your life is in danger only because you were kind to me.”

Dean could hardly stand the wounded look on Cas’ face. “Hey,” he barked roughly, “I’m only alive because of you. Don’t you dare feel bad about anything, you hear me?”

Cas nodded, but Dean felt a need to reassure. He cupped Cas’ chin and pressed their lips together tightly, forcefully. Cas let out a soft sound from deep in his throat and it resonated with Dean. It was the sound of comfort… of contentment. The kiss softened then, their lips parting for each other and their tongues sliding into each other’s mouths seeking a deeper connection. It was wonderful to hold and be held again. Dean was craving more, but the steering wheel was digging into his thigh and they were positioned awkwardly in the small space.

“Hey Cas,” said Dean as they parted, “Let’s get out. I’m getting claustrophobic in here.”

The two men exited the car and climbed up onto the hood, reclining back on the windshield to look at the stars. It was silent for a while, but there was a question clawing at Dean. One of many, really, but the one he most needed an answer to.

“Cas, who are they?”

“They?”

“Yeah. You keep saying it.  ‘They’ took you. ‘They’ tested you. ‘They’ sent you to kill me. Who are they?”

“I have no name to offer you that will collectively encompass the group I refer to when I say ‘they’. I know them only by their individual names, Dean. There’s Uriel and Raphael, they’re the ones I see most because if I’m moving from room to room, one of them are always with me. The doors all open for them. When I am to be tested or educated or disciplined, it is one of them that comes to take me.”

Dean nodded, but kept his eyes skyward, not wanting Cas to feel self-conscious as he talked.

“I also see Meg and Ruby often since it’s usually one of them bringing food. Bela is the one who tests us in the environment. What she says about us will lead to either reward or discipline. But she seldom says what she means and often I’m unsure as to whether I’ll be disciplined until I see where I’m being taken.”

Dean swallowed hard as a mental picture of Cas’ world took shape in his mind.

“It’s Crowley that handles the discipline,” he continued, “and that is bad enough, but Naomi though, she’s the worst. Her voice chills me no matter when or where I hear it. She is the one who reeducates. To sit in the chair in her office is…”

Dean could feel the tension rolling off Cas as he tried to finish. He understood all too well. It wasn’t easy to just sit down in his counselor’s office and start to talk about Jeffrey.  From the sound of it, Cas’ experiences with “them” were every bit as terrifying as Dean’s were with Jeff.  Slowly, not wanting to startle Cas, he reached out and took his hand.

“I’ll die before I let them take you back there,” he reassured.

“I’m very happy to be back in your presence Dean. I missed you and your home so much… the comfortable clothes… the delicious food… your bed… our time together and our talks.”

“Me too Cas, me too,” said Dean.

He steered Cas to talk of lighter things after that, promising himself not to overwhelm his friend with too many questions all at once. They talked of their favorite cars, the TV shows they had watched together and other easy subjects. The sky started to morph from deep blue to purple along the horizon, a sign that dawn would soon be breaking in the east. He got to his feet and turned his back on Cas to take a piss. Then, turning back towards his friend, he had to chuckle. Cas looked so uncomfortable in his clothes.

“Sorry to see they put you back in that monkey suit,” he laughed lightly, referring to the suit and trench coat.

“Yes, this is unpleasant,” lamented Cas, “I want to wear my sleep pants.”

Dean laughed softly, and when his stomach growled he added, “Pie. I want pie.”

They watched the sun come up from the hood of Bobby’s Chevelle as they talked of all the things they wanted and couldn’t have… a hot shower, clean clothes, a hearty meal, a sweet desert, a stiff drink and a restful sleep. When the scrap yard opened and workers started moving about, Dean and Cas moved away from the car. They both leaned up against a tree where they had a view of the Chevelle but were relatively hidden from prying eyes by a line of battered and weather-beaten cars.

They dosed under that tree off and on for most of the afternoon as they waited for Bobby. It was evening when Dean heard the familiar rumble of his Baby approaching. He stood, working the cricks out of his joints as he worked his way back over to the Chevelle. When the Impala rolled to a stop next to it, Dean was expecting Bobby. Instead, he got Ash.

It was impossible not to hug the guy. Dean wrapped his fist affectionately around the thin pony tail that hung between scrawny shoulder blades and gave it a playful tug.

“S’good to see ya man,” said Dean, thumping his friends back affectionately as he pulled away, “What’s goin on? Where’s Bobby?”

“No clue,” said Ash, digging his hand into his pocket and coming out with a small, cheap and ugly cell phone, “All I know is, you’ve got a call.” With that having been said, Ash tossed Dean the phone. He caught it and waited for the guy to say more, but he remained silent.

“And?” Dean prodded.

“And nothing,” countered Ash, “Trade me keys man, that bad boy needs to get in the paint booth today.”

Dean blinked, stunned by the lack of acknowledgement from Ash that anything was amiss. “You’ve got nothin' else to tell me?” he pressed.

“Well Ellen sends her love, and the cooler that’s in the back seat. But I’m supposed to keep this short,” Ash answered pointedly, “Two minutes is all I’m allowed. Gotta get back to the shop before she decides to dock my pay,” laughed Ash, crossing between Dean and Cas to take possession of the Chevelle. Dean watched Ash climb behind the wheel and start it up. As he put the car in gear and pulled out onto the dirt road, he leaned out his window and gave Dean a serious look. “Get movin',” he said firmly.

Dean picked up on the tone immediately. Despite the facetious attitude and relaxed body language that would always belong to Ash… there was still urgency. Ellen had sent Dean’s car and supplies with strict instructions regarding the delivery which was to have a two minute time window and leave Dean a burner phone. His feet were already moving towards the Impala as his brain sorted out what had just happened. Gesturing Cas toward the passenger door, Dean climbed in.

As he drove back out onto 17th street, he flipped open the burner phone. Sure enough, there was a voicemail. Dean thumbed the button to retrieve his message. It was a rush of relief to hear Bobby’s voice...

“Alright, first of all, tell your boy that he needs to bring a better car next time he instigates a car chase.” Dean had to chuckle at that. “Now, you boys have a drive ahead of ya. Go to that cabin where I took ya hunting… the one where you got your first buck. Keep to the back roads. Live like it’s the dark ages. Toss this phone and pick up another. Hats and shades indoors and new plates when ya cross lines. Check the trunk over. It’s outfitted for ya. When ya get there, keep to yourselves. Don’t poke around in town. Everything you need is in the basement, but you’ll have to look hard for it. Take care boys. And don’t leave a trail that ain't piss.”

Dean chuckled again as he ended the call, pulling to a stop on the same bridge where he’d tossed away his smart phone last night. Now, he pitched this latest phone over the side and hopped back in the car.

“What’s happening?” asked Cas as Dean hit the gas.

“We’re goin on a road trip, Cas. Your first one. I wish it could be more fun, but hey, a roadtrip’s like a pizza,” he grinned, “Even when it’s bad it’s still pretty good.”

Cas nodded but Dean had the sneaking suspicion that his friend really didn’t understand and still had no idea what to expect. “We’re gonna be in the car for a couple days,” he clarified. “You hungry?”

“Yes.”

“That cooler back there is full of food. Grab us something?”

Dean smiled as Cas tugged off his coat and tossed it to the back, followed by his jacket. Then, as the man turned and leaned over the bench seat to dig into the cooler, Dean found himself enjoying the feel of Cas’ body pressed against his shoulder. It was good to have him back. It was good to know that Bobby was safe. And, it was good to have a destination, if not a plan.

He sank his teeth into the sandwich that Cas handed him and drove the backstreets of Kansas City. A long detour to the north was necessary to avoid downtown and the cluster of freeways that spread out from the city’s center like a spider web. He felt anonymous enough on the smaller roads but even getting close to the freeways was nerve racking; as was passing over the Missouri River since the only crossings were via busy, multi lane highways and freeways that could easily be under surveillance. His chest would clench with fear every time he approached an overpass. The cluster-fuck of octopus interchanges are common areas for traffic cams and helicopters so he knew they were risky. Sadly, there was no way out of the city without passing under half a dozen overpasses.

When he’d finally crossed under the north loop of 435, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. The worst was behind them. A few miles farther and Dean turned out onto highway 92 heading west. Their destination was probably fifteen hundred miles away. But if they took turns driving, they could be there in a day or two. And after getting a glimpse of Cas’ driving skills last night, he has no issues with letting the man drive his Baby.

“Dean,” asked Cas, “Where are we going?”

“Whitefish,” he answered, naming the town nearest the cabin, “Whitefish, Montana.”

.


	9. The Road So Far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ravenwolf36 for editing!

Consulting paper maps and avoiding freeways at all cost, Dean and Cas moved westward. Compared to cruising along on the freeway, just a few miles to the south of them, the back roads were slow progress. Dean had initially thought it would take about 24 hours to reach their destination in Montana. Sadly, at this rate, it would take three times that long.

Everywhere they looked they saw nothing but fields. They passed through small towns, each different but somehow the same. The job of navigating got harder once the sun went down since they had to turn on the dome light to consult the map.

“This isn’t a road, Cas” said Dean as he was told to go left.

“It should be highway 63.”.

“It’s gravel Cas, a highway isn’t gravel,” countered Dean as he reached for the dome light.

Cas was silent as Dean pulled to a stop and took the map from him, squinting to find their place.

“Damn,” mumbled Dean, finger tracing the route, “You’d think there’d be a way to get to 24 without having to go so far north.”

“I know, but if we can get to 16 we’ll have a straighter shot anyway since 24 bends around Turtle Creek Lake.”

“I don’t even know what intersection we’re at,” Dean complained as he threw the car in reverse and swung around to shine headlights on the street sign. “That’s hilarious,” he said dryly as he took in the green street sign with white reflective lettering. “They didn’t even bother naming this road. It’s just ‘A’. I bet there’s a fucking ‘B’ and a ‘C’ all the way to ‘Z’ in this county.”

“I’ll be right back,” said Cas, opening his door to exit the car.

Dean turned his attention back to the map, knowing that Cas was just going to take a piss. By the time his companion climbed back in, he’d figured out the next short leg of the journey.

“We’re just early,” said Dean when Cas climbed back into the car.

“Early?”

“Yeah, we keep goin' another five miles or so and we’ll hit 63 like you thought.”

“You look tired,” observed Cas, “Shall I drive for a while?”

“You look tired too Cas. Wanna just get some shut eye?”

“Here?” Cas asked him.

Nodding, he said, “There was a turn off back there… maybe a hundred yards or so. Wanna check it out?”

“Alright,” agreed Cas as he extinguished the dome light and began folding up the map.

Dean turned the car around again, backtracking a bit. The road was completely deserted and as he crept along he searched the grass along the side of the road for a bare spot. When he saw it, he turned the Impala in slowly. As he did, the headlights swung around and landed on a dirt path. Dean followed it for a few dozen feet, then pulled to a stop under a large tree and cut the engine.

Ticking sounds filled the sudden silence - the engine starting to cool. Dean got out and moved to the rear of the car to take a piss. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to take in their surroundings. This was obviously just a well-worn path that was used to bring tractors in and out of the field. The wide expanse of it tapered away downhill and was illuminated by moonlight and twinkling with fireflies.

“You hungry?” he asked Cas as he dug into the cooler.

“Yes,” said Cas coming to stand beside him.

Dean grinned as he dug through the cooler. It had been a silly question. Cas was always hungry. Usually, Dean was the one who loved to eat… always wanting seconds… never stopping with just one slice of pie. It was nice to eat with someone like Cas, instead of his brother who always ribbed him for not eating healthier; gave him the stink eye when he had too many sweets or too many drinks.

Having retrieved what he wanted from the cooler, Dean moved around to the front of his baby and climbed up on the hood. Cas followed him silently and settled in alongside. He passed his friend a sandwich and dropped a gallon of sweet tea and a bag of cookies between them.

They ate quietly as they watched the sky and took turns swigging from the jug. When finished, Dean leaned back against the windshield, mind wandering aimlessly as insects droned around them. He watched the stars and found himself starting to think of Sam. He wondered how he and John were getting along. Also, he wondered if Sam was now getting a daily call from Ellen if his brother was having any dreams. When his mind started churning in circles around Sammy, he turned his attention to Cas for a distraction.

“Hey Cas?”

“Yes?”

“You said you have siblings.”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean you have parents?”

“I suppose it does,” Cas answered thoughtfully, as if that concept had never occurred to him before.

“Do you know yours?” Dean pressed.

“Eve is our mother. She says that we are all her children and that she will take care of us.”

“Does she Cas? Does she take care of you?”

“I suppose she thinks she does. But I can’t think of anything she ever did to help me or comfort me or even keep me safe from Crowley and Naomi. She smiles when I’m disciplined.”

“That ain't family, you know that right?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” said Cas softly, turning his head towards Dean.

“Family is there for you. They help you. Sometimes more than you want them to. Those people who keep you, test you and discipline you… they’re not a real family. At least, I don’t think so anyway.”

“They’re the only one I have Dean.”

“How long were you there with them?”

“For as long as I can remember.”

Dean worked to try and word his next question well, knowing it would be a tough one for Cas. “How far back do you remember?”

“I have lost count of the days.”

Dean closed his eyes, trying to focus. He worked to think of things the way a child would think of them so he could ask the right question and get a real answer. He wanted to know if Cas had any memories of childhood.

“Do you remember ever not having to shave?”

“No. My face has always grown hair.”

 _Well_ , thought Dean, _that answers that. Cas has no memory of a childhood._

“Have you always had the same siblings?”

“I’ve always lived in the same quarters. Ana and Zar have always lived in the same hall. Mic and Luc have always lived on the other side of the locked door at the end of the hall. There are a few others who have joined us for testing, but not as regularly and I do not know where their rooms are.”

“Do you guys do things together besides testing?”

“Yes, we attend lessons together.”

“Do you ever have time to just hang out with them?”

“We have recreational time, but we do not have it together.”

“What do you do for recreational time?”

“We are given choices. I usually prefer to go outside into the courtyard. I love to be outside,” he said wistfully.

“What do you suppose happened to Ana?”

“You did not fatally wound her. She likely procured another vehicle and continued to follow our trail. When she didn’t find us by the sunrise, she was probably brought back home for discipline.”

“You said she’s relentless.”

“Yes, she is. She has a way of sensing people… of feeling them instead of seeing them. It’s how she found us at your house. She followed me. She was far enough away that I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was there. She could still see me through all the obstacles.”

“Obstacles?”

“Yes Dean, things like other cars, trees, even walls. She could easily see me through those kinds of things from blocks away. That’s why I drove so far before turning around and moving back north after she crashed. I went far enough that I knew she wouldn’t be able to see me anymore.”

“Unless,” said Dean, playing devil’s advocate, “Unless she got another car fast enough and followed us at a distance. We wouldn’t have known she was behind us, right?”

It was silent for a moment as Cas considered.

“She could still be following us right?” pressed Dean, “Maybe we shouldn’t be sitting here like this. Maybe we should keep moving.”

“I don’t think so,” answered Cas, “If she’d followed us as you’ve described, we never would have made it out of the scrapyard.”

“Okay,” said Dean, willing his body to relax.

After a few minutes of thinking hard, Dean settled on one last question. “What’s Zar like?”

“Preferable to everyone else. He smiles a lot and says funny things.”

“Does he have a gift?”

“A gift?” repeated Cas in a questioning tone.

“Well, you can see darks and Ana can lock onto people. It seems safe to say that Zar has some kind of skill too.”

“Oh yes,” nodded Cas, “He can tell when people are lying. No one can hide the truth from him. It’s very useful for testing. _If_ he’s on your team.”

“Mic?” Dean asked, looking back to the stars overhead.

“Terrifying.”

“What’s he do?”

“Whatever he wants. He’s got strength like no one else I’ve ever known. He is lethal. He can flick the head of a screw off with his finger.”

Dean was silent as he pictured what Cas was describing.

“And Luc is a liar. That’s his strength. No matter what lies he tells you… you will always believe him. He can tell you that your skin is purple and when you look down, you will see that your skin is purple. It is disturbing.”

Dean stayed quiet after that, letting his mind process what he’d been told. When his thoughts began circling again, he tried to redirect them.

“Where are you going?” asked Cas when Dean swung his legs over the edge and hopped down from the hood.

“Going to check the trunk. Bobby said it’s packed for us. I wanna see if he thought to toss in a damn pillow or two.”

When Dean opened the trunk, it looked different. In the dark, with only one dim bulb lighting the space, it took a moment to figure out what had been changed. His eyes roved over two duffle bags, clearly one for each of them. There were also camping supplies… rolled up sleeping bags, and a box of provisions. In the box were some non-perishables, lighters, cans of Sterno, flashlights and a wide assortment of handy-to-have items. Next to the box there was even a small red tool box with some of the basic things they’d need if they had car trouble.

What looked funny about the trunk couldn’t be ignored now that he’d seen it though. It was shallow. Far more shallow than it had been last time he’d opened it.

“Cas,” he called out.

“Yes?”

Dean could hear his friend sliding off the car and walking around to join him.

“Here,” he said, thrusting sleeping bags into the man’s arms, “Something to sleep on.”

Cas nodded and stood holding the rolled bundles while Dean pulled the duffels out and dropped them to the ground, followed by the box of supplies too and the tool box. Then he peered inside again, this time letting his fingers trace along the seam where the bottom of the trunk met its sides.

“Ah ha,” he said, grinning as his fingers found a small hole. He craned his wrist around and slid a finger into the hole, pulling up and revealing that this was indeed a false bottom.

“Well fuck,” he sighed as he looked over the loot, “I don’t even know what some of this shit is!”

“I do,” said Cas, leaning in.

Dean’s eyes skimmed over a wide variety of weapons. There were lots of blades, everything from simple switch blades all the way up to a huge machete. There were several guns as well. Dean eyed the Beretta Model 92. It had a 15 round magazine… perhaps preferable to his colt in a future car chase? There was also a Winchester pump action shotgun and a Heckler & Koch sniper rifle in its case. There was even a Micro Uzi and a DefTech launcher.

Dean’s own engraved Colt was still heavy in his shoulder harness as he looked over the selection of weaponry piled in the trunk. He was at least vaguely familiar with each of the guns and blades. But there were a few things that were puzzling to Dean.

“What’s this?” he asked Cas, picking up a ridiculous contraption that looked like a high school science fair exhibit.

“It’s an add-on,” said Cas, taking it and deftly attaching it to the shotgun barrel. “It disables drones.”

Dean gave a low whistle as he watched Cas’ nimble fingers remove the assembly and return it gently to the trunk.

“And this,” said Cas as he picked up a small plastic housing that looked a lot like an oversized wall charger for a cell phone, “this monitors the area around it using Wi-Fi. It doesn’t stop the drone, it simply interferes with its ability to take any images.”

“Huh,” replied Dean, scratching his head.

“Bobby is a smart man,” said Cas firmly. “The last thing we want to do is take down their drone.”

“Why is that?”

“It would lead them to us,” he answered, “It’s better to just let the camera appear to malfunction for a moment as it passes over than to disable the entire thing and have people come looking for it.”

“Good thinkin' Cas,” nodded Dean, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“What’s in that little box?” asked Cas, pointing to a small cigar box tucked in amongst the miscellaneous items.

Unsure, Dean lifted it and flipped open the lid.

“Damn, Bobby,” said Dean as he flipped through the contents.

Cas leaned in for a closer look. The cardboard box had fake ID’s in it and credit cards with matching names. There were passports too, and a money clip that was holding a very fat stack of cash.

“Here,” said Dean, thrusting the cigar box towards Cas, “Put that in the front seat wouldja?”

Cas nodded and stepped away. Dean took one last look at the arsenal in his trunk. In equal measure he was relieved to have family like the Singers, and saddened to be living a life that necessitated so much firepower. Exhaling, he lowered the false bottom again.

“Dean,” said Cas, having stepped up to lay a hand on his forearm, “Wait.”

He looked questioningly at Cas. He was handing Dean the gun he’d been holding since they’d left the scrapyard.

“Will you store this with the others?”

Dean looked at him for a moment, not taking the gun that Cas was holding out to him.

“Cas…”

“I don’t wish to carry it anymore,” interrupted Cas.

“Cas, buddy…” Dean began, wanting to list off all the reasons that it was safer for them both to be armed.

Once more, Cas cut him off. “Dean, please.”

The look on Cas’ face was so pleading and vulnerable, there was simply no way to ignore it or challenge it.

“Okay Cas,” he relented as he lifted the false bottom once more, “put it in.”

 

 

 

Cas was relieved to be rid of the weapon. Although he could understand why Dean wanted him to carry it, the weight of it was not welcome and the possible use of it was reprehensible.

They each took a sleeping bag and settled in for the nigh, Dean in the front seat and Cas in the back. The early autumn air was crisp but not too cold and they left their windows down to keep the car from getting stuffy. He dozed more than slept, rearranging his position often and listening carefully to Dean in the front. It was much easier to protect Dean from his nightmares when they were side by side. Having a divider between them didn’t feel right.

When the sun started to rise, they both sat up and agreed to get moving again. They stretched and pissed and then stood at the trunk of the car, each pulling something clean to wear from the duffle bags that had been packed for them.

It was thrilling to be able to shed his constrictive suit and slide into a simple t-shirt and jeans. Dean laughed out loud when he kicked his suit into the tall grass behind the car and left it there. Hearing Dean’s hearty laugh brought a pleasant flutter to his own chest and he smiled, loving the sound of it.

It wasn’t easy to keep his eyes to himself while Dean undressed next to him… the allure of his skin was enticing. As was the soft glow that emanated from beneath it. Dean’s body was fascinating in both its shape and texture and Cas longed to touch it.

With the aid of daylight, they easily found highway 63 and rode it north to 16. Finally, they were heading west again. Dean cranked the tunes and sang along and it was fun to join in the singing on the few songs that had become familiar in his time with Dean. Sometimes as he joined in singing, Dean would even give him a wink. Being winked at was wonderful. It was a silent form of communication he’d never been exposed to prior to meeting his Bright and he assumed that it was an encouragement since it was always accompanied by an easy smile.

Hours later they stopped in Colby for gas. Both men donned sunglasses and caps when they entered the small grocery to pay for their gas and use the facilities. Leaning over the sink, Cas washed his hands, arms and face. He even scrubbed the grit from the back of his neck and felt much better when he’d finished. He traded the sink off to Dean and stepped into a stall, relieved to finally let his body do its business.

Emerging from their pit stop refreshed, they climbed back in the car. Though the radio still played cheerful songs, Dean no longer sang along. He grew quiet and introspective. With nothing to occupy his mind, Cas fell into his own thoughts. He considered what it would be like where they were headed, how things would be between him and Dean, and what would happen to him. It was unlikely at this point that he’d ever be taken ‘home’ again. Of that he was sure. It seemed likely that the next time someone was sent for him, it wouldn’t be to retrieve him. It would be to kill him. Beyond the windshield was nothing but more of the same wide open spaces for hours and hours. There wasn’t much traffic on the backroads they traveled. In fact, the road was lonely. And long.

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep until Dean woke him. He stretched and worked to clear his blurry eyes and cloudy mind. Dean needed a look out, he said. So Cas assumed his post as Dean’s careful guardian while the man lowered himself to the ground and unscrewed a new set of license plates for the Impala. Both men stayed awake after that, just watching the barren fields roll by and listening to the radio.

As they neared Denver, they turned north on 71. It was dark when they stopped for gas again and Dean swapped seats with Cas.

“Wake me when you get tired,” Dean said as he put his shades over his eyes and hunkered down in the passenger seat. Cas kept his eyes on the road but his mind continued to wander aimlessly as he drove steadily north for hours.

“Where are we?” Dean asked, when he finally woke up and looked around.

“Still on71.”

“How long have I been out?”

“It’s after 3.”

“3 am? I’ve been out for…” Dean squinted and rubbed his eyes as he tried to think, “… almost six hours?”

“Yes Dean.”

“Why am I still so tired then,” he complained, rolling up his window.

“Perhaps we should just stop and rest,” suggested Cas, “I’ve grown quite tired as well.”

“Sure,” agreed Dean as he dug the map out of the glove box and unfolded it. “Give me a landmark so I can figure out where we are.”

“We should be coming up on Scottsbluff soon,” replied Cas, “I just saw a sign for it.”

“I miss my smartphone,” huffed Dean, “If I had it we could just google the maps instead of having to read paper ones. And I could find us a hotel too.”

Cas didn’t answer, knowing Dean was just feeling frustrated and there wasn’t anything he could say that would make it easier.

“You’re right,” said Dean as he folded up the map and put it away, “We’re almost to Scottsbluff. Looks like a big enough town to have a motel.”

Cas remained silent as Dean watched out his window for a hotel. His mood appeared to perk up quickly when he saw a brightly lit green and yellow sign.

“Cas, pull in up here… the green sign. See it?”

“Yes Dean, but this doesn’t look like a hotel.”

“It’s not. But I could use a piece of pie. How bout you, Cas, you want something hot to eat?”

“That sounds nice,” agreed Cas as he turned into the lot. The sign read “Perkins Restaurant and Bakery.”

 

 

 

As they were parking, Dean noticed a Hampton Inn that stood adjacent to the restaurant and pointed it out to Cas.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing his aviators. They’d been instructed to wear hats and shades indoors. But Dean knew that was mostly to help them avoid being ID’d on the monitoring system of a gas station. Especially in the future if their images were released to the public for any reason.

But at 3:30 in the morning at 24 hour restaurant? Dean couldn’t imagine that the shades would be needed. Still, it didn’t feel right to leave them in the car. So, he perched them on top of his head and motioned for Cas to do the same.

They walked in together and sat down in a booth. Within minutes they were sipping hot coffee and looking over menus. Cas chose a very ambitious breakfast platter while Dean ordered a hearty beef dinner. After pie, both men leaned back with satisfaction and smiled.

“I feel better,” said Dean.

“Me too,” agreed Cas, “but I think I’m ready to sleep now.”

Dean nodded and tossed down a couple of twenties for their meal as he stood. They got back in the car and drove over to the hotel where he pushed his newly acquired fake credit card over the counter and signed the slip with an illegible signature.

When they reached the room and stepped in, the smell of clean sheets brought a smile to his face. They tossed their bags down and both headed to clean up. Dean left Cas at the double sinks and stepped into the bathroom to shower. He was anxious to crawl into bed so he made it a quick one. He wrapped a towel around his waist when he stepped out and traded places with Cas.

After brushing his teeth he changed the bandage on his hand. But when he dug through his duffle, he didn’t find any sleeping pants. Only day clothes. So, he slid on a pair of boxers and climbed into bed. With a TV remote in hand, he flicked off the light and settled in. Cas wasn’t too long in the shower. When he emerged, he dug through his bag much like Dean had.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you wearing to bed?”

“Just boxers. I think our bags were thrown together pretty quick. It’s just a few changes of clothes… no sleep pants or anything.”

“Alright,” said Cas as he dropped his towel and stepped into a pair underwear.

Dean had trouble keeping his eyes on the television and not watching Cas. It was hard to deny the growing desire he’d been developing for his friend. Hell, even before Cas had disappeared he’d begun feeling it. Now, after having been separated for a while, it was intensified.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” he answered, finally giving his eyes permission to leave the flicker of the television.

Cas glanced back and forth between the two beds in the room as he said, “Where should I sleep?”

It was easy to see by Cas’ inquisitive and penetrating eyes that this wasn’t just a question of where he’d be sleeping tonight. Cas, with imploring features, was asking Dean where his place was… where he belonged.

“Here Cas,” said Dean without blinking, “With me.”

As Cas stepped up to the side of the bed, Dean held back the covers for him and waited while his friend crawled in next to him. No longer interested in the television, Dean flicked it off and plunged the room into darkness. He set the remote down on the bedside table and rolled over to face Cas. He didn’t even hesitate… just slid his hand over between the sheets. His fingers bumbled into Cas’ arm and slid downward to take his hand.

Dean pulled that hand to his chest, much like he’d done not so very long ago in his own bed. Just as he had that first time, Cas followed the movement with his entire body and came to rest in his arms. Dean hoped his actions spoke clearly since he didn’t trust his voice. He wanted Cas to know that his place was at Dean’s side… in his arms… as close as Cas wanted to be.

Only one thing was missing as the two settled in together. Cotton. Previously, there had been sleeping pants between them. Now, Dean felt his body react as Cas’ bare legs slid up against his and he worked not to let himself become aroused by it.

As satisfying as was to hold this man in his arms and feel him skin to skin, Dean knew better than to let himself get a boner. It never ended well. As soon as he was hard, he always felt nausea sweep over him. Sometimes he could push past it… working himself to a release, but it always ended the same for him now… hunched over the toilet to puke.

Dean’s counselor had been encouraging regarding his attempts to masturbate and had told Dean to try and draw a distinct line between rape and sex. Rape is an assault. Sex feels good. They are different. But, sadly, the same equipment is involved in both. So, no matter how logical the argument, his progress in the area of sexual gratification has been quite slow. In the weeks since Jeff, he’d probably been over focused on it. But he couldn’t help it. On some level he wondered if sex would ever really be the same for him.

As the quiet of the room swallowed him up, he became aware of how heavily he was breathing. His chest was full of hatred for Jeff… for what he’d done and what he’d taken and the way that he was coming between Dean and Cas. His mind flooded with guilt too… a sickening inward blame for allowing a dead man to come between him and what he wanted.

It was as if Jeff, though dead and gone, still had the upper hand somehow. The chains may as well still be on him, because he wasn’t free to enjoy his life. He despised Jeff for taking the joy of sex from him and he was disappointed in himself for being weak enough to allow it to happen.

Dean tipped his head forward and rested it against Cas’ on the pillow as he worked to calm himself.

“What is it?” whispered Cas, “You’ve grown tense since I joined you.”

“It’s him Cas, he may as well be right fucking here.”

“I’m sorry Dean,” replied Cas softly, “I wish I could kill the part of him that still lives.”

“I know you do,” answered Dean, clenching to hold back angry tears, “But only I can do that.”

“Sleep Dean,” encouraged Cas, “I’ll wake you if he finds you in your dreams.”

He did sleep eventually. He slept deeply. If Cas had awakened him at any point, he didn’t remember it. And when he rolled over and stretched, the sun was high in the sky.

Near him, Cas was stirring. “What time is it?”

Dean turned to check the clock radio that was attached to the night stand. “Almost ten. We better get movin'.”

It only took a few minutes to get dressed and gather their things. They took time to drain and repack the cooler with fresh ice before heading out. They were heading north-west now on 26 and shortly after crossing the border into Wyoming, they stopped to deprive another vehicle of its license plates.

The scenery was still nothing to write home about… a flat expanse of what used to be prairie that was now primarily pasture land. Heavy rain hit in the late afternoon and Dean loved driving in it; always had, especially at night.

Cas fiddled with the radio, rolling through the dial and trying lots of different kinds of music as they forged on. The wipers were beating back and forth noisily and at times the rain was heavy, coming down in sheets.

They stopped to use the facilities at a small gas station around the dinner hour and refueled there as well. The rain was blowing in under the awning as Dean pumped gas and the two were laughing as they climbed back in the car and shook out their wet hair. Sloshing with melted ice, the cooler slowly emptied as they put miles in the rear view mirror. Heavy rain stayed with them until shortly after the sun had set and the pavement stayed wet and shiny under the headlights for quite a while after.

It was after midnight when they pulled into a Super 8 motel on highway 59 just outside of Miles City, Montana. Neither was quite as tired as they’d been the night before, so they watched TV for a while. Dean looped his arm around Cas’ shoulders as they watched and after a while, Cas laid his head down on Dean’s shoulder. He kept his eyes on the screen as he leaned in to press a kiss into soft dark hair. There was a warm feeling in his chest that lasted all night… long after they’d turned off the television and curled together to sleep.

Waking in the morning, Dean found himself thick and stiff between his legs. His swollen package was butted up against Cas’ thigh and he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and purposefully focusing his mind on other things. As he thought of his brother and Bobby and Ellen, he began to soften and was happy to find that he’d experienced no nausea. In fact, he was hungry.

He swung his legs out of bed, gave a big stretch and then hopped into the shower. With Cas still asleep, he was free to take a nice long one, enjoying the surprisingly decent water pressure. As his muscles relaxed and his mind wandered freely, he found his thoughts drifting to Cas. The few flashes of skin that his eyes hadn’t averted over the last few days flickered before his eyes and soon he found himself hard again. He tried not to think about the fact that he wasn’t feeling sick to his stomach, not wanting to jinx it.

Then, with his mind on Cas, he squeezed a fair amount of shampoo into his hand and took hold of his dick. He took a deep breath and let it out, leaning back on the cool tiles as he began to stroke. It felt incredible. Thinking of his cock butted up against Cas’ leg this morning in bed sent a flood of warmth over his skin and his stomach swirled as he worked his fist faster. He was coming before he knew it and he was so overjoyed that he found himself opening his eyes to look down and watch it happen.

There were already spatters on his arm. And, as he watched, another few drops pulsed out and ran down the crown. He shivered, in a pleasant way, as he rinsed away the evidence of his release. Then, he climbed out and toweled off. Dean was smiling and proud. He’d had an orgasm without the stain of negative feelings and it gave him a great deal of satisfaction. And hope.

When he exited the bathroom with a cloud of steam, Cas was at the sink brushing his teeth. They packed up and left the room, both ready to get out on the road. As Cas played look-out, Dean swiped plates from a car in the back row of the hotel parking lot.

They were headed northeast on 59 when Dean started to notice that the land wasn’t quite as flat anymore. As they ate up the miles, Baby glided over gentle rolls of the earth. Nothing so grand as to be called a hill, but after driving on what felt like the bottom of a skillet for so long, it was a welcome change.

When 59 ended at T-intersection with 200, they stopped to grab a meal at the “Hilltop Café”. To say ‘hilltop’ was quite a stretch. And Dean couldn’t help laughing as they passed a huge red banner that hung next to the entrance. It carried the Budweiser logo and said, “Welcome Hunters”. Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder and nodded toward it, getting a very warm smile from Cas in return. Cas, after all, considered himself to be a hunter.

The place had very curious offerings on its menu including “Indian tacos” and a “Sheepherder’s sandwich”. Dean ordered the Cattleman’s Roast Beef Sandwich and Cas had the Charleston Chicken. They lingered over their fries to enjoy a round of beers and then climbed back in the car.

They were angling back south again as they drove along on 200. It was still irritating not to take the most direct route to where they were headed, but Dean was starting to get used to it. At least the landscape was improving, gentle rolling hills and clusters of green trees breaking up the monotony.

When they passed through the first town they’d seen in over five hours that was more than a wide spot in the road, Dean pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a Shopco Pharmacy. Cas followed quietly as Dean headed over to the Tracfone display and took all three remaining flip phones. He headed for the register, stopping briefly at a rack of generic looking sleep pants that were on sale for $7.99. One look at Cas, all sexy in his aviators, and Dean turned away. _Boxers are fine for sleeping_ he thought.  _Actually, boxers are great_.

They moved towards the checkout, snagging cases of soda and snacks for the cooler along the way. Once they were back in the car, Dean pulled his current burner phone out of his pocket and dialed Bobby’s number. He didn’t get an answer so he left a voicemail saying, “It’s me. We’re gettin' close. Just wanted to check in and see how everybody is. I’ll call again tonight around 8.”

He ended the call and started Baby, navigating her out of the lot and back onto the highway. A few blocks down, Dean slowed on a tiny bridge and chucked his used phone out the window and into the small creek below.

They followed 87 through town and back into wide open spaces. The radio station was cranking out good tunes and it was 8:00 before he knew it. He pulled over so they could piss and then motioned for Cas to take over driving as he sat down on the passenger seat and called Bobby’s number again.

This time Ellen answered. “You boys alright?”

“Yeah, we’re good. How are you guys?”

“We’re getting by,” she replied, “We’ve got about sixty seconds. Anything I need to know?”

“Not really. We’re close to the destination.”

“There’s suits sniffing around. They’ve been everywhere. Don’t think they have anything or they wouldn’t still be here.”

“What suits? From where?” Dean asked, feeling his heartbeat accelerate.

“I don’t know. But Bobby wants to meet up. Call the shop tomorrow for the details. Don’t let Ash put you on hold either. Just hang up and call back if ya have to.”

“Ellen, I…” Dean wanted to thank her. He wanted to let her know how much he cared. But the pause he took to find the words was too long and she cut him off.

“Me too. You boys take care now.”

With that, she was gone and the line was empty.

Dean looked over at Cas and said, “Bobby wants to meet. Says I should call the shop tomorrow.”

“Are you worried?”

“Well, there’s people sniffin' around… investigating.”

“That’s to be expected,” replied Cas.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed listlessly, wishing he’d had an update on Sam. He’d never even had a chance to ask about him. He pulled out the map and checked it, looking for the next river they’d be passing over so he could dump the used up phone, already looking forward to his next call.

The scenery had grown even more lovely as the day wore on, the highway bending and curving between rolling hills and peppered with evergreens. Large puffy clouds drifted in the wide sky overhead and Cas was smiling at him from the driver’s seat. All in all, Dean was feeling pretty good.

Somewhere deep inside his mind, a soft but nagging voice warned him that this was the calm before the storm. But, lucky for Dean, he’d always been a master of ignoring that pesky voice.

.


	10. The Destination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Ravenwolf36 for editing ;)

Cas drove for hours and hours. When they came through Browning, Dean saw a dodgy looking sign for the Western Motel.

“What do ya think Cas, stop here for the night or keep driving?”

“I’d like to stop,” said Cas, letting his foot off the gas and slowing to turn in.

They checked in with the fake card again, filled the ice in their cooler and took showers.

“Do you think we’ll get there tomorrow?” asked Cas as he toweled off.

“I hope so. This has already taken a day longer than I expected,” Dean replied, fluffing up the pillows behind him and settling in with the TV remote.

Cas smiled as he dropped his towel and stepped into his boxers. For the first time, Dean didn’t look away. Cas held eye contact as he crawled in and Dean pushed the remote into his friends hands.

“You pick tonight,” he said as he turned to flick off the lamp.

“Okay,” said Cas softly. Then Dean watched Cas press the little red button to turn off the TV. At first, Dean thought Cas was moving in to hug him, but no. Cas was simply reaching over him, stretching to set the remote back on the nightstand. But, as he did it, their chests pressed together.

If there was any question in Dean’s mind as Cas moved over him, it was dispelled by the look in Cas’ enigmatic eyes when he pulled back from Dean and laid down. This was flirting. Cas was flirting with him. It was irresistible. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ trim waist and pulled their bodies flush.

Cas seemed to love being held this way too… a soft noise of contentment escaping him that Dean’s body responded to without hesitation. It was so easy then, to press their lips together. Another enticing sound found its way to the base of Cas’ throat and Dean loved it. His stomach was churning now, in a good way, and as his bare legs brushed with Cas’ he felt a shiver snake up his spine.

Sinking deeper into the kisses, Dean found his hands wandering up and down the lean expanse of Cas’ back and loving how it felt to pull Cas onto him and feel the weight of his friend settle over him. Both of them were breathing heavily between kisses and Dean felt his body growing expectant.

“Cas,” he managed to croak out between kisses. But when Cas picked his head up and looked at Dean, all words failed him. He might have been planning to warn his friend that he wasn’t sure how far he could take this, but with those eyes on him, the words evaporated.

When the silence had stretched out too long, Cas asked, “Are you alright Dean?”

Dean worked to deliver an answer, “Yeah, Cas. M’fine.”

It was a bit sad, but the spell seemed to be broken after that. Cas leaned in and kissed him sweetly on his forehead and then snuggled down beside him in the bed.

“Good night Dean,” he whispered.

“Good night Cas,” he replied, sad that it was over. Dean kept their bodies pressed tightly together between the sheets and it took a long time to fall asleep. He didn’t let go though, keeping Cas close and reaching out to him each time they drifted apart in the night.

In the morning, things were clearer. Cas was still clutched to him and as he extricated his limbs to head for the bathroom, Cas rolled away and seemed to go back to sleep.

The events of the previous night stayed on his mind as he showered and he found himself feeling happy as he realized that Jeff had not been spared one single thought last night. He’d enjoyed watching Cas as he’d dried off and stepped into his boxers. He’d felt anticipation as he’d watched the man join him in bed. He’d loved how innocently Cas had flirted, pushing himself so carefully into Dean’s space. His body had been responsive as they’d made out. Even when fear and self-doubt had plagued him… he’d never felt the sickness. There had been no sense of wrongness or impending danger. And, even after they’d quieted down, Dean’s mind hadn’t clouded with thoughts of Jeff and the damage he’d done. Rather, he’d faded off to sleep with his mind wandering. Mostly he’d thought of Sam and wondered how his brother was doing. He’d wondered why Ellen was answering Bobby’s phone for him and he thought about what they’d actually do when they arrived at their destination. 

After showering, Dean began unwrapping his hand. It was looking much better now. There was no more exposed tissue, which had been a grizzly sight. The skin over the nub of his knuckle was bright pink and shiny… still new. He knew he probably didn’t need to keep wrapping it anymore, but it was very tender and he preferred to keep it padded.

Cas took a very long shower that morning and Dean smiled as he thought about what was probably happening behind the curtain.

When they exited the parking lot and as they headed west, Dean’s eyes raked over the horizon line. The silhouette was grey and hazy in the distance, but the shape was unmistakable.

“Cas,” he said as he pointed, “Look. Mountains.”

The outline was muted and Dean cast a few sidelong glances at his friend as he waited for Cas’ eyes to make out the shape of the peaks that appeared small in the distance but were, in fact, enormous.

“I’ve never seen mountains before, Dean,” Cas answered softly, “I’ve never seen much of anything.”

“Well, you’re with me now,” said Dean, chin held high with conviction, “And it’s time to see some shit!”

Dean watched Cas’ profile and found himself growing excited. A few days of driving over the most boring landscape imaginable had made this trip more of a bummer than it needed to be. They’d managed to have some good times along the way, but this was different.

Starting yesterday, the scenery had become interesting and pleasant and it had boosted both of their moods considerably. And now, as he watched the Rocky Mountain Range taking shape in the distance, Dean was preoccupied with thoughts of the fun they’d soon be having.

The cabin wasn’t anything special, but it stood on a hillside that overlooked a huge lake. They’d fish there and maybe even swim if it was warm enough. They’d hunt the nearby woods and Dean would help Cas get over his apparent fear of guns. They’d build a fire in the fireplace and maybe roast marshmallows…

“Dean,” said Cas, interrupting his daydreams.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s eat there,” he suggested, pointing to Dean’s left.

Dean followed his friend’s finger and saw what looked like a large log cabin. The sign hanging from the peak proclaimed it to be the Junction Café. It smelled incredible when they walked in and when the food was delivered, they tore into it.

When neither could eat another bite, they pushed away from the table and made use of the facilities on their way out. Morning became afternoon as Baby burned up the miles and worked to carry them through elevation changes. Tree’s dotted the peaks and valleys, sometimes think and sometimes sparse. Low lying areas held glassy water that reflected the blue sky like a mirror and the hazy silhouette of distant mountains was growing larger. The jagged peaks on the horizon line teased their eyes… coming into view when they crested a hill and then disappearing when they descended into a valley.

Baby’s windows stayed down, both men enjoying the late summer sunshine all around them and the cooling breeze of mountain air. When he was ready to take a break, Dean turned off at one of the small gravel access roads marked with a “State Park” sign. They both took a piss and then Dean tore into his bag and pulled out another burner phone. He flipped it open and dialed Bobby’s number.

Ellen answered on the first ring.

“How you boys doin'?” she asked.

“Good, Ellen, we’re good. How bout you?”

“Alright. I gotta keep this short. Bobby says to meet him day after tomorrow. Be there at first light. The place where you spilled worms. Go alone.”

Dean was surprised that he was being told not to bring Cas, but there must be a reason. He didn’t argue it.

“How’s Sam? Have you been talking to him?”

“Yeah, I’ve talked to him every day. Don’t worry yourself over him. Just go see Bobby at first light day after tomorrow.”

“Okay. Ellen, I…”

“Yeah,” she said, cutting him off, “Me too.”

Dean took a deep breath and then walked over to Cas who was preoccupied with something.

“Whatcha lookin' at?”

“Bees,” he replied, not turning to face Dean. “Look Dean, how they move from flower to flower. They don’t even land, they just hover there. It’s fascinating.”

“Yeah, that’s great Cas,” he said, barely looking, “I have to go drop this phone in the water. You wanna come? Or you gonna stay here and watch the bees?”

“Bees,” Cas answered, still not turning to face him.

“Well alright,” he chuckled, turning toward the highway and looking both ways before he jogged across it. From the embankment on the other side, he pitched the phone into water. The creek was clear and shallow so it was easy to see the rocky bottom. The water looked cool… and clean enough to drink.

They dawdled for a few more minutes before leaving, Dean leaning on Baby and letting his eyes wander over the pristine wilderness around them. He glanced occasionally at his friend, still clearly intrigued as he moved through the wildflowers that grew alongside the path here.

Soon they were back underway, moving northward along highway 2. The creek that had been trailing alongside the highway came back into sight often as they drove. The hills around them were small mountains now, the barren cliff faces high above dominating the lush green landscape below.

The glow of the afternoon sunshine bathed everything and accented the occasional tree whose leaves were starting to turn colors. Everywhere he looked was a feast for the eyes and every image looked like it had been lifted from a post card. The wonder of nature was all around him and magnitude of it was inspiring. He didn’t want to drive anymore. He wanted to stop here and build a cabin where he could live out the rest of his days in peace.

“Dean?” said Cas, interrupting his revelry.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like me to drive for a while so you can look around?”

Dean smiled, wondering if Cas was reading his mind. He nodded and pulled off onto the shoulder so they could switch. As they passed each other at the rear of the car, Dean felt Cas reaching for his hand. He reached too, their hands touching as they brushed by.

It was wonderful to be so connected that they could feel one another this way. Dean loved knowing that Cas watched him closely enough to see what he wanted and needed – often before Dean even knew it himself. And he watched too… always had. Cas had fascinated him from the beginning. They smiled warmly at one another when they climbed back in the car and Cas drove them the last hour to Whitefish.

The cabin was actually east of town, so Dean had Cas turn prior to reaching it. They made a right on highway 486 and headed north. This area wasn’t quite as idyllic as Whitefish, but it also had less tourists and more locals. There was a Smiths grocery here and they stopped to pick up a few things. They kept their hats and shades on as they moved through the grocery and filled a cart. When they exited, Dean drug Cas on a quick detour to the shabby looking liquor store across the street. With a bottle of whiskey and a few six packs on board, Dean almost felt like they were just on vacation.

They stayed on 486 for about ten miles before taking the left turn onto Canyon Creek Road. As Cas drove, Dean scanned the right hand side for the little turn off for Rufus’ cabin. He knew if he blinked he might miss it. It wasn’t meant to be seen.

Even when he did find it, it was so overgrown that he wasn’t sure he had the right path. Cas was slow and careful with his baby as they rolled downhill on a mixture of dirt and gravel that hadn’t been used in quiet some time. Twice they had to stop and drag debris out of their way… large branches that had fallen and never been cleared. Dean took it as a good sign in regards to the level of privacy they could expect here.

When the cabin came into view, it was different than he remembered. Smaller, shabbier. They parked Baby under the branches of a wide tree and began carrying their things in. Inside it was cool and dark and smelled of the outdoors. There were cobwebs over everything. The windows were opaque with dust and pollen. Every time they moved anything, a cloud of dust rose up around them.

“Damn,” said Dean, “Guess we’ve got our work cut out for us, huh?”

“We should get started then,” said Cas.

The first thing they did was check for water. The sinks and shower worked but the water coming out was brown with rust and contaminants. They let the faucets run, hoping to purge the lines, and set to work on everything else.

Dean cleaned the windows which brightened the place up significantly. Cas found and old broom and began sweeping so Dean picked up the sofa cushions and bed pillows, carrying them outside and beating the dust off of them. He shook out rugs too, and piled the ‘clean’ items up on the rickety porch.

With Cas sweeping, the entire interior was a cloud of dust. Dean chuckled as he peeked in through a window and saw Cas with his t-shirt stretched over his nose so he could breathe as he worked feverishly to push years’ worth of dust and dirt out the front door.

Ready for round two, Dean pulled his own shirt up over the bridge of his nose and moved back inside. He bypassed Cas and headed for the bathroom. It was pleasing to see that the faucets were now pumping out orange water instead of brown. He let the water continue to run as he used his now dirty rags to clean up the shower stall as best as he could. When he could stand the suffocation no longer, he rinsed his hands and exited, grabbing two beers from the cooler as he passed it.

“We should let that cloud settle,” said Dean when he found Cas on the porch.

“Yes,” he replied, working on sweeping the porch now.

Dean turned his head to keep from eating dust since Cas was sweeping upwind of him. “C’mon,” he barked, “It’s good enough.”

Cas abandoned his sweeping and came to sit down next to him on the steps. Dean handed him a beer and then clinked his bottle neck to Cas’ in a silent “cheers”.

“We dropped almost a hundred bucks on food and booze,” lamented Dean, “why didn’t we think to put some Pine Sol in the cart?”

Cas shrugged. “It’s getting dark. We should get some firewood.”

Dean nodded, knowing his friend was right. The electricity wasn’t on and soon they’d need light. “Let me finish this,” Dean said, indicating his beer, “and then I’ll get down to the cellar and see if there’s any lanterns down there.”

Cas nodded and sipped his beer. They were both covered from head to toe in black grit. Against his dirty skin and three day beard, Cas’ teeth were bright white. Practically gleaming. Dean had an urge to kiss him.

“Well,” said Cas as he got to his feet, “I’ll go find some firewood.”

Dean took a flashlight from the box of supplies and pulled up the trap door leading to the cellar. It was black as pitch down there. He groaned as he contorted his body around and climbed down, feet settling into soft earth when he reached the bottom. He had to work to control his thoughts. They’d turned ugly as he’d descended into this space that was chillingly reminiscent of Jeff’s basement. Shining the light, he turned slowly in a circle to take in his surroundings. The walls were made of stone and the floor was earth. There were a few crudely fashioned shelves against two of the walls, heavy ones, built of barn board. Wooden crates, blackened with mildew, lined the wall nearest him. Dean stepped up and peered inside them. They were empty, save for a few pieces of scrap wood that had been tossed inside them.

The shelves held a few old jars, most of which were empty. Some held buttons or matchbooks or other small trinkets. There was a lantern, but it was an old one.  It would need a wick to function properly and there wasn’t one. It was useless.

Dean stood for a moment in the cool darkness, puzzled. Bobby had said they’d find everything needed down here. But as soon as he heard the words in his head, he remembered the sentence that had followed, “you’ll have to look hard for it.”

With that thought in mind, Dean began systematically turning the cellar upside down. It was when he moved the second set of heavy shelves that he struck gold. There was a hole in the wall… a gaping hole. It was three feet high and two feet wide, just big enough for someone to crawl through.

Shining his light into it, he was thrilled to see plastic tubs lined up in the small space beyond. Dean settled his flashlight between his knees on the dirt floor and tore the cobwebs down with his hands. Then, able to press his shoulders into the space, he began to drag out the tubs.

When he’d removed them all, he hollered for Cas.

“Yes Dean?” said Cas, peering down into the cellar.

“Take this,” he grunted as he foisted the first tub up over his head. When he felt the weight of it lifted from his hands, he reached for the next. When all four were up on the main level, Dean scurried back up the ladder, grabbing the jar of matchbooks he’d found on his way up.

He closed the heavy door to the cellar and immediately tugged his shirt off over his head.

“Check me,” he laughed as he turned his back to Cas, “I feel like there’s fuckin spiders all over me!”

Cas laughed and brushed his palms down Dean’s back, blew the dust out of his hair.

“I think,” said Dean with a smile, “I’m dirty enough now to not care how nasty the shower is.”

Cas glanced down at the tubs with blatant curiosity. Dean shrugged and set to opening them. The first was full to the brim with army MRE’s.

“What are these?” asked Cas.

“Food,” answered Dean, “Each packet is meal, ready to eat. They keep almost forever and don’t spoil. There’s a little packet of chemicals inside that’s activated with water. It heats the food.”

“Incredible,” said Cas, picking up one of the packets.

“Yeah,” said Dean, “But unless you’re starving, they taste like ass. So they’re a last resort.”

Cas was looking through the tub now, marveling at all the flavors.

“You wanna try one don’tcha.”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas replied as he continued digging, “May I?”

“Knock yourself out,” he chuckled as he leaned in to open the next tub. When he popped the lid, Dean let out a low whistle.

“What?” asked Cas, letting his attention be pulled from the food box.

“We’re set Cas,” he winked as he began pulling useful items from the tub. There were two lanterns. There was camping stove kit they could cook on and a smaller version that was attached to a cup for heating up single portions of soup or coffee or whatever.

“Now I see why they packed us all these cans of Sterno,” laughed Dean, gesturing toward the box of miscellaneous supplies they’d carried in from the trunk, “All this stuff runs on Sterno.”

“What is Sterno?”

“Canned fuel. People use it mostly for camping,” he said as he moved on to the third box.

“Wow, more of this,” he laughed, seeing another tub full of MRE’s. “Last one,” he said as he bent to open the fourth tub. Flipping the lid back revealed it was full of other miscellaneous things that might be needed. Things like Candles. Batteries. Bleach. Iodine. Knives. First Aid Kit. Compass. Maps. It was a boy scout’s wet dream.

“Did you get firewood?” Dean asked, noticing that it was almost dark.

“Yes, a little. I stacked it on the porch.”

Dean got to his feet and went to retrieve some. He stacked a bed of small twigs in the bottom of the hearth and got it burning, adding larger pieces as he was able. When the fire needed less tending, he moved about the cabin finding homes for the goods that laid about in tubs, bags and boxes.

He put their duffle bags in the bedroom and yanked the top quilt off the rusty wrought iron bed. The covers beneath it weren’t too bad. Dean peered gingerly between the sheets, mostly checking for bugs and snakes. Then he shook out the quilt before laying it back on the bed. As he exited, he dropped a lantern on the bedside table. This was to be their home for the foreseeable future and Dean liked thinking of it that way.

When he ambled back out into the main area, he smiled widely. Cas was sitting on the couch in front of a roaring fire. The man was hunched over, reading the directions on his MRE. Leaving Cas to experiment, he snatched a lantern and some soap and headed to the tiny little bathroom.

The towels were as dusty as everything else. He took one from the middle and shook it out. Then he started up the water. It was freezing and he gritted his teeth as he stepped under it. He make quick work of scrubbing himself down and then hopped right out.

By the time he rejoined Cas in the main area, his companion was sitting motionless on the rug and watching the fire. The remains of a mostly uneaten MRE were spread out on the floor in front of him.

“Toldja those sucked ass,” laughed Dean.

“Yes, Dean, you were correct. The flavor was… unpleasant.”

“Want something else?”

“Yes,” Cas said softly, turning to look at him for the first time. “You look cold,” he observed.

“Yeah, no hot water here.”

“You should put something on,” said Cas softly, “I’ll make us some food.”

Dean headed for the bedroom and dropped his towel, tugging yesterday’s jeans and shirt back out of the duffle. He was out of clean stuff, but it didn’t matter. Even yesterday’s dirty clothes were cleaner than those he’d taken off to shower.

When he returned to the main room, Cas was digging through the cooler.

“I don’t really know how to use any of this,” he said forlornly as he gazed at their newfound gear.

“Me either,” Dean reassured, stepping up to the cooler, “And I’m not in a mood to read the directions on all of it tonight. How bout we just have bologna sandwiches and beer tonight?”

“Yes,” smiled Cas.

Before long they were settled on the couch in front of a crackling fire. They talked of the trip they’d just taken and the things that they needed to do tomorrow. Eventually, Cas excused himself to the bathroom to take a shower. Dean, tired and ready to sleep, headed for the bed. He didn’t need to light the lantern he’d left near the bedside. A soft orange glow from the fire in the living room carried through the doorway.

He pulled the covers back one layer at a time, again, checking for anything creepy crawly. Satisfied there was nothing, he crawled in. The sheets weren’t fresh, but they were clean enough. He laid there in the quiet, just listening to the crackle and pop of the fire as he waited for Cas.

“I did not enjoy that,” said Cas firmly when he entered.

Dean chuckled. Cas’ teeth were chattering as he dried himself. Clearly too cold to care, he dropped his towel to the ground as he dug though his duffle, naked as searched for something to put on. Dean had to chuckle as he watched Cas practically hop into his boxers and stuff feet into jeans before vaulting into the rickety bed with Dean and tugging the covers up to his neck.

Already bed warm, Dean curled over into Cas to share his heat. He wrapped his limbs around his friend and pressed his body against him. Slowly, Dean began to feel Cas’ body warm up and relax into the bed.

When it had grown peaceful, Dean whispered, “I have to into town in the morning. Alone. I have to leave while it’s still dark out, so you might not even notice I’m gone. But I wanted to tell you in case you woke up alone.”

“Where are you going?”

“Bobby wants to meet. He wants me to go alone. I don’t know why.”

“Bobby is here?”

“Honestly Cas, I don’t know. I think so,” he said hopefully, “but I’m not meant to know. That was obvious.”

“Alright,” said Cas, breath tickling Dean’s neck, “What do I do if you don’t come back?”

“I’ll be back,” he said firmly.

“What if…”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted firmly, “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

“That’s easy to say,” whispered Cas, “but hard to do.”

Dean kissed Cas and held him close, but didn’t sleep well that night. His mind was plagued with questions about what tomorrow would bring. When the alarm on his cheap burner phone went off, it woke them both. It was harder than he’d thought it would be to pull away from Cas and put boots on his feet.

As he drove the pre-dawn backroads, Dean found himself growing more apprehensive by the minute. He entered Whitefish and drove slowly through town, past the train depot and towards the lake. When he approached a familiar looking cluster of buildings, he slowed and pulled in. Passing up the area illuminated by the street light, he parked in the dark near the front door of a small bait shop that was attached to a diner on one end and an outfitting store on the other.

It was here that Dean, in his youthful enthusiasm, had tipped over a stack of Styrofoam worm containers stacked three high and splattered them all over the floor. Bobby had laughed with the owner as Dean had dropped to his knees and scooped their wriggling bodies back into the containers, a black slimy mess left on the floor even after he’d gotten every worm back put back.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from the memory and he shoved his way out of the car, seeing an approaching figure that could only be Bobby. Dean stepped up and grasped him firmly, pulling him into a bear hug.

“Bobby,” he said with relief, “I was hoping it would be you.”

“Yeah, don’t get too excited. I’m not the cherry on this Sundae.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean teased as he stepped back, “got another case or two of Sterno for me?”

As they shared a laugh, Bobby peered around Dean, likely checking to be sure they were alone. Then, he gestured into the darkness… a wide wave at the window of the bait shop. The sun was rising now, a faint pink light visible to the east. But, the parking lot was still relatively dark and swathed in shadows. From twenty paces, Dean watched the door on the bait shop swing open and a lone figure emerge… tall… gangly.

Dean took a step closer, still staying at Bobby’s side. His heart leapt in his chest as the silhouette stepped out of the shadow and into the faint light of early dawn.

“Sammy,” he whispered, legs already moving. “Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…” he chanted as he flung himself forward and embraced his brother. It felt like it had been years.

“Alright, alright,” barked Bobby, demanding their attention as they separated from a bone crushing hug.

“What’s goin' on Bobby?” asked Dean.

Bobby looked to Sam.

“I’m still seeing that girl,” said Sam in a pleading voice, “She’s in danger now.”

Dean watched his brother pull his journal out of his jacket.

“I’m waiting to get more… but right now, all I know is, she’s tied up in the back of a white van. I can’t see any logo or plates or anything. I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to find her in time.”

“What’s the plan?” Dean asked, turning to Bobby.

“The plan is, we talk. The three of us. John’s chasin' a lead and he’s itchin' to hit the road. Right now, he don’t know anything about this - thinks our boy here is just homesick for his brother,” said Bobby with a nod. “The three of us need to decide if we’re bringing John in on this or not. And we need to set up a plan for how to keep you boys in touch so Sam can reach you when he’s got something.”

“The visions are coming fast,” said Sam, “I’m getting glimpses of her a few times a day now. Sooner or later I’m going to see something I can use. I know it. I just hope I’m not too late.”

“We’ll find her Sammy,” Dean reassured. Then he looked over at Bobby. “Can I get a word?”

Bobby nodded and stepped away with Dean. They whispered in hushed voices as the lights of the bait store came on behind them. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“My dad. He’s here, right? Close? Just doesn’t wanna see me?”

“Yeah, boy, he’s around. He said to give you a hug for him.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he said something. And I know him well enough to know what he meant. He loves you, boy. So do I. Now, I think you boys need to talk for a bit. Get a look at Sam’s journal so you’re both on the same page about this. Then we should set up a call schedule.”

“No, Bobby. We shouldn’t. The more calls we make, the more risk we take. You taught me that.”

“What do you suppose we oughta do then?” said Bobby, glancing back at Sam.

“Nothing. I’ll take Sam with me.”

“I thought you might say that. But no. It’s too dangerous. All three of you… all together… like ducks on a pond? No.”

“Bobby, c’mon, he needs me,” Dean insisted.

“No. Your daddy’s the best one to keep him safe. No two ways about it. You’re too wet behind the ears - you can’t protect him.”

“Yes, I can,” said Dean firmly, “Bobby, I can. I’ve been helping him with these visions all his life. He’ll be better off with me and you know it.”

Bobby opened his mouth to protest but Dean kept right on talking, “I know that Dad’s got mad skills. I can’t argue that. But I have something Dad doesn’t have.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I’ve got a guy who can spot evil people from twenty paces… a guy who doesn’t like guns because he prefers to kill with hands. He’s lethal Bobby. And he’s loyal. To us.”

Bobby closed his mouth and appeared to be thinking. Sam was lingering nearby, pretending not to hear.

“C’mon Bobby, me and Cas, we can protect him. You know it. And I can help him find this kidnapped chick he’s been seeing.”

“Alright,” conceded Bobby, “But you know that your old man ain't gonna like this one bit. You’re pushin' him farther away by doing this.”

“Doesn’t matter,” sighed Dean. “What matters is Sammy. I wanna take care of him the way you take care of me.  And we’ll keep in touch Bobby, I promise.”

“Go on then,” he said. “I’ll take care of your daddy.”

“Thanks Bobby,” said Dean with relief as he pulled his surrogate father into another fierce hug, “Thank you. For everything.”

.


	11. Fulton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Ravenwolf36 for editing.

****

The time passes slowly. Cas has no watch anymore, nor is there any clock in the cabin. Dean took the only working phone with him. So, the movement of the sun once it’s risen is the only way to tell the time.

Using the mini heater he makes himself a cup of instant coffee. It’s terrible, but the feeling of accomplishment that accompanies reading the directions and learning to use the contraption is pleasant. As the sun moves higher in the sky, he settles on exploration to pass the time. He begins by going outside and walking a circle around the cabin.

From the ground looking up, the needed repairs are obvious. The windows on the upper part of the structure are still opaque, covered in dust and dirt. There is a stark contrast between those windows and the ones on the lower level that Dean had cleaned yesterday. Cas continues to walk circles around the cabin, extending his perimeter with each pass into ever widening circles. Before long, he can hardly see the cabin anymore. There are a lot of elevation changes here and he’s sweating from the exertion of it.

The land behind the cabin falls away sharply. It’s a steep hill. The view into the valley below is lovely in some places and at the bottom is a lake. On the distant shore of the lake, the eastern end, there is human activity… some dwellings… cars moving about on roads… docks jutting out from the shoreline and boats moving about on the water. On their half of the lake, the western side, the water is still and undisturbed. There are no roads and no people.

Just as his mind begins to worry, wondering what he’ll do if Dean doesn’t return, he hears a welcome sound cutting through the hum of insects and that song of birds. It’s the Impala. With a smile he can’t hold down, Cas bounds straight back to the cabin. It’s up hill all the way and he’s breathing heavily when he surges out of the trees and into the clearing behind the cabin.

“Cas?” he hears Dean shouting.

“Back here,” he answers as he jogs around to the front.

Stopping short at an unexpected sight, Cas stares at the porch. Standing there is Dean, but he’s not alone. Cas’ stride doesn’t falter despite his surprise and he continues closing the distance to Dean. It’s not until he’s forced to restrain his actions due to the presence of another person that Cas realizes he’d been racing to hug Dean, thrilled with his return and wanting to cover his face with kisses.

“Cas,” says Dean, coming down off the porch and moving towards him, “You remember my brother Sam?”

“I do,” he replies as he takes a closer look at the face of their visitor.

“He’s going to be staying with us for a while,” explains Dean as he leans in.

It feels good to have Dean embrace him, but this hug is different than the one he’d thought he was about to have. Cas feels himself pulled in by one arm, rather than two. And their contact doesn’t linger. The action is ended with Dean’s palm clapping his back once as he pulls away and looks back towards Sam who is still standing in the same place on the porch.

“Yes,” Cas forces, not wanting to do anything that will show Dean he’s uncomfortable, “Of course I remember.” He takes steps to close the distance, walking up the few steps to the cabin and reaching out to shake Sam’s hand… just as he’d done the first time they met… in the kitchen of Jeff’s house on the day he’d rescued Dean.

Just like then, it’s not easy to share space with Sam Winchester. The air around the young man is just a bit cooler and when their hands touch, there is a hollow feeling in Cas’ chest. It’s especially noticeable standing so near to Dean who’s inner light is so warm and inviting… radiating right through his skin.

As he and Sam retract their hands from shaking, Cas watches the two brothers. They turn their backs on Cas and head into the cabin, so he follows them. His mind is grappling with questions that he wants to ask, so he’s unfocused on the friendly chatter between the brothers. But, he catches bits and pieces of their discussion. They are laughing a lot as they move about the cabin and talk about what a shambles it is compared to how they remember it from childhood. Sam looks over their supplies and says he’s ready to start cleaning the loft. Hearing a word he’s not familiar with, Cas looks to Dean and questions, “Loft?”

“Yeah, Cas,” replies Dean, gesturing beyond Cas’ shoulder, “Up there.”

Turning to follow Dean’s pointing finger, Cas sees the rickety ladder he’d swept around yesterday. He’d noticed that there was a small space up at the top, but he’d thought it was likely for storage.

“We slept up there,” continues Dean, “When we were kids. I doubt anyone’s been up there in years and years. You can go have a look if you want, it’s where Sam’s gonna sleep.”

Cas wanted to know what was up that ladder now. He wanted to know what differentiated a ‘loft’ from what he’d assumed to be simply storage space. He climbed the ladder carefully, hearing it creak under his weight. When he’d gotten high enough to see into the darkened space, he saw that Sam had his work cut out for him. The ‘loft’ was in far worse shape than the areas that he and Dean had cleaned up yesterday. There wasn’t enough room for a grown man to stand to full height up there. There was a bed, but it had no frame… just a mattress on the floor. There were cobwebs over everything. It was dim up here too, but Cas could see that was because the windows hadn’t been cleaned yet.

With his curiosity satisfied, he climbed back down the ladder and returned his attention to the brothers. They we laughing about something and paying Cas no attention. So when he returned to their presence, he allowed himself a moment to look over Sam more closely. It was as he’d seen before – Sam had a small but noticeable dark cloud hovering low in his chest. It was reminiscent of the one Tessa had when they’d met. He’d known her only a few weeks. But, in that time, the cloud had grown and darkened very quickly. It frightened him to consider how quickly Sam could be changing into something else… something dark and evil. Something he’d need to kill.

But even more disturbing was that, already, he was wondering if he would. Killing Sam would separate him and Dean forever, there was no denying it. It made him wonder if, for Dean and only for Dean, it might be possible to tolerate the presence of a Dark in his life and allow the thing to live.

“Cas?” said Dean, pulling Cas from his thoughts, “What do you think?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away from Sam for the first time in a while, “I wasn’t listening.”

“I said,” Dean repeated, “We were gonna do laundry today anyway. Wanna go back to the store and get the stuff we said we needed… some cleaners and stuff? Then Sam could clean up his loft.”

“Yes Dean,” he answered, watching Dean move to their room and collect their duffle bags. When the two brothers moved to exit the cabin, he followed them to the car and slid into the back seat. He paid little attention to the conversation as they drove into town, his mind occupied with processing the changes that today had brought.

Dean drove them back to the supermarket they’d visited the day before. But Cas stayed in the car this time. Being alone gave him a few minutes to think, but it led to no brilliant insights. Dean was still in a good mood when he returned with bags of supplies. It was clear that having his brother along was quite pleasant for Dean and for that, if nothing else, Cas found himself glad.

He followed the brothers into the laundromat, but mostly he was just watching as they used the machines. While they lingered there, sitting in uncomfortable chairs, Dean and Sam discussed their father. Since Dean hadn’t said much about his father, Cas was intrigued. It seemed that although the boys didn’t like their father much, they had a fair amount of respect for him. Dean especially. More than once Cas overheard Sam saying how glad he was to be with Dean now. Each time it was said, Cas saw Dean’s light swell, his eyes shiny with it.

There were tense moments on their outing too. Cas watched twice as an uncomfortable silences settled upon the brothers. Both times, Sam closed his eyes and his eyebrows formed a tense line. Dean would lean in, waiting for Sam to open his eyes again. Each time, Dean would say, “Didja get anything?” and Sam would reply, “No.”

When they finally returned to the cabin, Cas took the duffle bags to the bedroom. He could hear both brothers climbing the ladder to the loft and assumed that Dean was going to help Sam clean out his space.

Exhausted and emotionally wrung out, Cas flopped down on the bed. It groaned beneath his weight as he fell on it. The pillow still smelled of Dean and he curled into it, letting his eyes close as he enjoyed it. They didn’t open again, his mind fading in and out for a while. He didn’t realize he’d actually fallen asleep until he heard approaching footsteps and startled awake.

“Sorry,” whispered Dean as he approached, “I didn’t know you were sleepin'.”

“It’s alright Dean,” answered Cas, glad to see Dean for a moment without the shadowy presence of his brother.

“I guess I’m a little tired too,” said Dean, closing the door and stretching out on the bed with Cas, “I didn’t sleep for shit last night.”

“Me either,” he replied honestly.

“Sorry for springing him on ya like this. But I had to bring him… I just had to.”

“It’s alright Dean, I understand not wanting to leave him with your father if he was unhappy,” he answered, referencing the conversation he’d overheard between them earlier.

“It’s not just that,” sighed Dean, rolling on his side to face him, “Sammy, he gets these visions sometimes. And he has dreams too. They’re hard for him to understand. But usually, the people he sees are in trouble. We track them down and try to help them.”

Cas was stunned by this. His mind immediately flooded with questions and it was hard to settle on which to ask first. As he deliberated, Dean continued on.

“This has been happening all his life, but we never told dad about it.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” he said carefully, “Lots of reasons I guess. But mostly, just because of how Dad is. He loves us, don’t get me wrong. But the most important thing to John Winchester is his crusade. Us kids? We’re second. Always have been. He’s been after the same people for most of our lives… the people who killed my mom. It’s all he can see. It’s all he cares about. And if we told him about Sam’s visions… Sam would become a clue.”

“And that would be a bad thing? To give your father a clue for his crusade?”

“Well, yeah. I think so. Sammy doesn’t want to be a clue. He wants to be a son. Plus, Sammy wants to save the people he sees in his dreams. But Dad? I don’t think that would be his top priority. Trust me Cas,” Dean reassured, “It’s better with me helping Sammy than Dad. It just is.”

Cas was silent, taking in all he’d just been told and processing it. He still had some questions, but he was side tracked from them by the movement of Dean’s hand. It was reaching out for him, sliding across the blanket towards him. Cas reached back, their hands meeting halfway and clasping firmly.

“You’ll help, right Cas?” questioned Dean imploringly, “You’ll help me protect Sammy?”

“Of course Dean,” he replied. He meant it whole-heartedly. At least, for now. He watched as Dean’s fingers threaded together with his and then let his eyes wander up to meet Deans glassy green ones. There was a smile starting there… just barely visible at the corners of his friend’s mouth. It was impossible not to move closer. Dean seemed to feel the same, wriggling and pushing himself up on one elbow to lean in and share a kiss.

Warmth bloomed in his chest like a flower as he let his eyes slip shut and his mind surrender to nothing but Dean. All his questions fell away and became inconsequential as the two of them shimmied forward and closed the last of the distance between their bodies. They’d never laid in bed like this before… fully dressed. But soon, Cas began to feel that their clothing was an imposition. He longed to feel Dean like he did at night – skin on skin.

Without even pausing to consider if his actions would be well received, he untangled his fingers from Dean’s and moved his hand to the flannel shirt his friend was wearing. He broke their kiss so he could tip his head up and watch his fingers as they began undoing his buttons.

Dean sat up then. For a moment, Cas feared he’d leave. Dean wasn’t always comfortable with his touches. And, if there were any doubt as to the reason, his friend had made it clear that some ghost of Jeff still haunted him. It stole in to ruin moments between them often. Fearing this was one of those times, Cas retracted his hand and moved to give Dean some space on the bed.

But to his surprise, Dean smiled at him. It was a frisky kind of smile. The kind that Cas was given when they played together or teased each other. He watched, his body growing anticipatory as Dean put his own hands to his shirt and hurried through the buttons to remove it. Cas smiled back, thrilled that Dean seemed to be thinking the same thing as him… that there were too many clothes between them.

Taking Dean’s nod as further encouragement, he began undoing his own shirt and loved the way Dean watched him do it. When he’d tossed his shirt to the floor, he moved in to embrace his friend, capturing Dean’s bare chest in the circle of his arms and bringing them back down on to the pillows where they sank into deep and exploring kisses.

Dean pressed more and more into space until he felt himself being moved gently onto his back. He smiled against Dean’s mouth as he felt the man’s weight settle on top of him. It was incredible to be here, on the edge of something.

He could feel it in his bones… something incredible was about to happen.

He’d gotten used to his appendage when he’d had no memory. He knew how it responded to Dean. But since his memories had returned, he now remembered his appendage well. He’d been experimenting with it in some capacity as far back as he could recall. Once, Zar had touched it. It had been done in secret, or so they’d thought. But they were punished heavily for the action. How anyone had seen it, he didn’t know. But the experience had been a valuable lesson. From then on, he’d never let anyone else touch him there or even see him touch it.

He’d rubbed himself surreptitiously beneath his covers at night and had soon found that if he rubbed long enough, he’d feel something incredible sneak up on him. He’d wet himself with delight as it came over him and then work to find a way to hide the mess he’d made.

Since returning to Dean with his restored memory, they’d been sharing a bed. And though he trusted Dean, he still felt secretive about his need to touch himself. So, he’d never done it where Dean could see him. He was still sneaking it, but now he did it in the shower instead of the bed. It hadn’t taken long to realize that Dean was doing the same. Because of this, Cas had begun to daydream that the two of them may one day share a shower. Touch one another in there. He wanted desperately to see what Dean looked like between his legs. He wanted to touch it and when he pondered these things, it was difficult to keep his body from reacting.

Now, as Dean laid on him, his appendage betrayed him and began to beg for attention. But then, something wonderful happened. Dean moved. It was a purposeful movement, his hips pressing down on Cas… rocking into him. The feeling invoked by the action was intense and he sucked in a deep breath as his body tried to process the sensation.

His appendage and everything around it swelled and seemed to grow warm. Tingles spread out over his body from their point of origin between his legs and the sensitivity of his skin increased… every point where he felt Dean touching him lent itself to the sensation of crackling electricity. Then, just as the feeling became manageable and began to subside, Dean repeated the action. Cas opened his eyes to see if Dean had meant to do it… to push their appendages together like that.

When they’re eyes locked on one another, it was easy to see that he had. Then, they were kissing again. Dean continued to press down on him and Cas surrendered to it, letting the feeling of it wash over him. It lit up his senses and he simply couldn’t keep still. Soon he found his body instinctively pressing up into Dean’s. It was so good; so very good to put the tension in his muscles to work by thrusting himself up under the weight of Dean’s body. His groin was pulsing with a desire for more. He spread his legs apart, hoping to give more of himself over to the feeling, giving Dean more access to the source of his most pleasurable throbbing.

“Cas” whispered Dean as he sank down and pressed in heavily, “I want you.”

“You have me Dean,” he whispered back, “All that I am, is for you.”

Cas fought his urge to hold Dean to him when the man started to pull away. He knew that grasping his friend too tightly would remind him of feeling chained and he never wanted to make Dean feel that. He worked to hold himself together as Dean sat back and got up from the bed, still breathing heavily as he stood there looking at Cas. One deep breath. Two.

Cas’ eyes were glued to Dean and no one spoke. But in the quiet, with only the sound of their breathing, Dean’s hands both went to his belt and began to undo it. It clanked as he quickly undid his button and zipper and then everything slid to the floor with a clunk. Dean was left standing there with his legs spread shoulder width apart and the outline of his appendage clearly visible through his boxers.

Cas gulped down the image, working to commit it to memory. It was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen… Dean, standing there, tall and proud and letting Cas look at him. This was a gift he was being given, he was sure of it.

Stepping out of the pool of denim at his feet in one smooth movement, Dean pressed up to the side of the bed and grabbed a hold of Cas by the ankles, turning his body and messing the covers as he dragged Cas’ body in a pivot. Cas sat up then, intrigued with what has happening. As he sat up, his legs came down, one on either side of Dean’s. He stayed still as Dean reached his hands out and clasped Cas by the back of his neck.

“Do you want to touch me Cas?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Unable to speak, Cas nodded. Slowly, not wanting to startle his Bright, Cas reached forward and laid his palms on Dean’s sides. He couldn’t resist the idea that swam in his head now, to lean in and kiss Dean on his stomach. It was right there are eye-level. His lips were on it before he could stop himself but Dean didn’t seem to mind. His hands, still on the back of Cas’ neck, clamped down. It felt like an encouragement, so he allowed his instincts to guide him. He kissed Dean’s abdomen with the same kind of open mouthed kisses they’d shared earlier, his tongue tasting the skin there and swirling through the trail of soft, dark hair that lead downward into the elastic waist of cotton boxers.

Dean moaned while Cas’ tongue followed that trail and pushed down into the elastic, wanting to go deeper and taste more. Soon Dean’s hands were at the waist and he was pulling the underwear down. The heat of anticipation shot through Cas as he held his breath and waited to see how much Dean would reveal. The answer was – all of him. It was magnificent to watch as Dean’s thumbs worked the elastic out over his _thing_ … his appendage… the thing for which Cas had no other name.

“What does one call this?” asked Cas as he watched the lean, hard line of it appear.

“Do you mean this?” Dean asked, circling his fist around it, “Or do you mean to ask what we are doing?”

“Both, Dean. Please give this thing a name and tell me what we are doing.”

“This is my cock, Cas. It’s a penis. A dick. My package. My junk. There’s a thousand names for it. And what we’re doing is messing around. I’d like to call it sex. But I don’t know how far I can go. Sometimes I end up feelin kinda shitty when I’m hard like this. I never know how it’s gonna be. I may have to stop and I’m sorry about that. It’s not you though. I really do want you. A lot.”

“Do you want to see mine too?”

“Yeah, Cas. I do.”

In his peripheral vision, Cas could see Dean stepping back to let his boxers slide to the floor. But he was focused now on opening his jeans. Not trusting his shaky legs, he worked to get his pants off while seated. Dean stepped up to help him, putting palms to Cas’ shoulders and pushing him backwards. As he fell back unexpectedly onto the bed, his legs pulled up from the floor. Dean seemed to be ready for this and caught him by his calves, securing them at his sides with his elbows as he leaned in over the bed and grasped fists into Cas’ unzipped jeans.

“Lift your hips,” he was instructed.

When he did, he felt the denim pulled away. As he laid there, Dean shucked his jeans off for him and his boxers too. This was the first time he could remember that anyone had actually looked at him naked. He wasn’t shy though. He loved looking at Dean and by the look in those wide green eyes, it was obvious that Dean loved seeing him too. It was impossible to keep calm as Dean pushed him further up onto the bed and crawled on top.

Then, he watched as Dean braced himself on his elbow and hovered over him while reaching out. Dean’s rough hand circled Cas’ ( _cock?)_ and took hold of it. The feeling was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Holding it for himself was nothing compared to this. His entire body seized and warmth flooded him. Everything inside his body roared downward toward his appendage and he cried out when he felt an explosion of pleasure burst out of him. His eyes clamped shut as it happened and his body locked up. It was impossible to open his eyes or close his mouth.

He felt like he was floating above the bed, rather than laying on it. Slowly, he was able to reclaim his senses and he felt himself relax as he did. Peeling his eyes open, the first thing he saw was Dean’s face. It was full of wonder.

Cas tipped his head up and looked down at his softening appendage. Dean was still holding it. Little jolts of pleasure still took hold of him intermittently and watching Dean’s hand, he could see why. Dean was fisting him tightly and his thumb still traced little circles over the tip. He’d wet himself. The evidence was all over Dean’s hand. But his friend didn’t seem to mind. He was smiling softly now, and whispering. Cas worked to take in the words… hear what Dean was saying to him.

That’s when a loud banging startled them. He came partially up off the bed and Dean did too, his hand slipping off of Cas. They both exchanged a look of disappointment at the interruption and then Dean pushed himself backward off the bed. He took a step back and looked to the door from where the noise had come. Cas watched Dean open his mouth to speak, but before any sound could come out, the abrupt knocking sounded again.

“Yeah?” Dean finally answered.

“Dean,” shouted Sam through the door, “Come out here! I’ve got something!”

 

 

 

Dean looked down at Cas. The poor guy looked stunned. This was lousy timing. There were things that needed to be said. Clearly this had been Cas’ first time. He undoubtedly had questions and probably needed to lay in Dean’s arms for a while and talk. But if Sammy had something… it probably couldn’t wait.

“Gimme a sec,” he hollered to the door, stepping back to retrieve his pants from the floor.

The other side of the door was silent and as he hiked his pants up, Dean settled on the side of the bed. It was going to be a long minute before he could zip his pantsanyway.

“Are you okay?” he asked his friend.

“Yes,” Cas answered breathily, “That was incredible.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. Watching Cas cum in his hand with nothing more than a touch took him back to his junior high days… back when every little touch had carried an electric spark so charged that  almost anything could pull an orgasm out of him.

“I wish I could stay in here with you,” he said quietly, unsure if Sam was still standing right outside their door, “But I have to go talk to Sam. Someone’s life is in danger and if he’s got something… we’ll have to act fast.”

“It’s alright Dean,” answered Cas, sitting up now. “You go ahead.”

“Thanks Cas,” he said gratefully, pulling the man into a kiss, “We’ll have some time together later, okay?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Take as long as you need in here,” he said to Cas as he wiped the sticky remains off his hand and onto the flannel shirt he’d tossed to the floor. Then he tucked himself back into his jeans and zipped up, doing up his belt as he stepped towards the door. When he passed by his duffle, he reached in and tugged out a clean shirt.

Since Cas was still naked on the bed, he opened the door carefullywhen he stepped out. Sam glanced up at him as he moved out into the main room of the cabin. His brother had been leaning over the kitchen counter where a map was spread out. Dean caught sight of a Cheshire grin on his brother’s face. Clearly Sam knew what he’d interrupted. “Hey,” greeted his brother.

“Hey,” he parroted as he walked across the room, pulling on his shirt as he went, “Someday you can tease Cas like he’s one of us okay?”

“Yeah,” his brother nodded, still on the verge of laughing.

“But today isn’t that day,” Dean said stoically, “Okay Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean. I get it.”

“Alright. Now, whatcha got?”

“A sign,” he answered. “Is there really nothing? No computers, no phones, no nothing?”

“Nope.”

“Shit Dean,” said Sam, frustrated, pushing his journal across the counter to Dean, “How are we supposed to do any research?”

“Library I guess,” he answered as he took hold of the book and turned it so he could see.

“Is this an emblem?” he asked as his eyes took in Sam’s little drawing of a square with words hovering inside it.

“A sign,” said Sam, “Near the side of the road. In the vision, I caught it on the fly… as if I were looking out the window of a car and drove past it.”

“Yeah,” he answered, feeling urgency well up in his chest, “We need to get to a library… a college campus… somewhere we can get online.”

“When can we leave?” Sam asked him.

“Now,” he answered firmly, “Go pack the car. I’ll go explain to Cas.”

He turned back to the door he’d just come through and gave a soft knock as he pushed it open.

“It’s me,” he said as he entered.

Cas was standing now, getting dressed.

“What is it?” his blue eyed friend asked him as he pulled his shirt back on.

“We gotta use a computer. We’re gonna go to the library in town. You can stay here if you want.”

“I’d prefer not to stay here alone again.”

“Of course. We’re just in a hurry. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

“Just let me get my shoes,” said Cas.

“Wait a minute there buddy,” he chuckled as he noticed that Cas’ shirt was crooked. “I think you jacked up your buttons,” he said as he moved across the floor and put his fingers to the man’s shirt. Cas took a deep breath, waiting as Dean fixed things by closing the missed button and then trading each subsequent button for the correct hole.

“There,” he said, giving Cas a peck on the lips when he’d finished. Cas gave him a smile… the dopey kind of smile that someone gives when they’re high or drunk… or they’ve just had their first sexual encounter.

“You okay, man?”

“Yes Dean. Thank you,” Cas answered, sitting down on the bed to put shoes on his feet. Dean moved to the nightstand and picked up his colt, shrugging into his shoulder harness and checking the barrel before tucking the weapon into it. He grabbed both their duffle bags and then waited for Cas before leaving their room.

The three were soon headed into town, Cas in the front seat this time. In the back seat, Sam was wrestling with the large paper map of Montana.

“Where the fuck are we? Whitefish?”

“East of there,” answered Dean, “Columbia Falls.”

“There’s a library on 6th,” said Sam.

“No way. We’re not getting online this close to the cabin. Whitefish or farther,” Dean answered firmly.

Cas sat quietly as the brothers discussed where to go. In the end, they headed south to use the library on the campus of Flathead Valley Community College. It took longer to find the place and get seated in the library than it did to find what they needed online.

Cas stood a few paces back, looking around the library, as Dean leaned in over Sam’s shoulder to stare at the computer screen. It felt good to know someone was looking out for them as they became engrossed in their work.

“That’s it,” said Sam firmly, staring at the results of a google search, “she’s in Missouri.”

Sure enough, there was a picture of exactly the sign that Sam had drawn in his journal. In the photo it was white with blue trim and it read, “Fulton State Hospital”.

He watched as Sam clicked on the first of many pages featuring information about the hospital.

“It’s a mental facility,” Sam said as he skimmed through the information, “The oldest in the state. This article is basically just ragging on how shitty the place is and how they can’t get funding to fix it or to build anything new.”

“Print some maps,” he ordered, “We can stop along the way to research more if we need to. But Fulton, Missouri is a long damn drive. If that’s where you’re girl is, we need to hit the road.”

The drive was long, but they didn’t need to stop as much with Sam along. They managed to keep the car on the road almost constantly, one of them always sleeping in the backseat while the other two sat up front.

Sam opted for a different route than the one he and Cas had driven. They pressed almost straight south, staying in the Rocky Mountain Range until it flattened out. As they neared Salt Lake City, they finally turned to the east to cut across the plains. Dean knew this to be the dullest part of the journey, but thankfully, they covered a huge chunk of it under the dark of night.

Dean crawled in the back seat to sleep shortly after 10pm, turning the wheel over to Cas. It was getting light outside when he woke. He stretched and worked to sit up. It was impossible to sit comfortably in the back seat with the cooler jammed down to the floor. He shoved it over, trying to make some room for his feet and then greeted his travel companions. Both were listless and tired, the night's drive catching up with them.

They made a quick pit stop to use the facilities and then hopped back in the car. Sam settled into the back seat while Dean drove. Cas sat upfront with Dean and read the maps. He was getting better at it too. Eventually, Cas sagged against the window. Dean reached over and pulled his friend by the shoulder, encouraging a sleepy-eyed Cas to lay down on the front seat and rest his head on Dean’s thigh. He stroked his friend’s soft hair idly as he drove.

A few hours into the day’s drive, Sam bolted up in the back seat. “She’s in there!” he barked, eyelids heavy and clearly still half asleep.

“What did you see?” Dean asked, watching his brother’s face in the rear view mirror.

“Tall fence. Chain link. Rolled razor wire around the top. It’s outside her window. She’s in that hospital Dean, I’m sure of it.”

“Alright Sammy,” he reassured. Get some sleep. See if anything else comes to ya. We’ll be there soon.”

Soon may have been a bit of an exaggeration… they had at least six or seven hours to go. But he hoped they were making good enough time… that he could get his brother there in time to save this poor woman. Dean’s heart had been aching for her since Sam had said she was tied up. He knew the feeling of being bound. He was trying to play it cool… to not worry Sammy any more than he already was. But deep inside, as hours ticked by, he’d begun to worry that they’d be too late this time.

They swapped drivers again when they turned south along the border between Nebraska and Iowa. Cas gave Kansas City a wide berth as they drove east past the north end of it. The sun was starting to set by the time they reached their destination. Fulton was a relatively small town, poised about 2/3 the way from Kansas City to St. Louis.

They were southbound on 54 and approaching the exit when Dean decided to wake Cas. He’d been sleeping for a few hours now. Sam was clearly anxious and the three of them were silent as they rolled into town. Dean pulled into a gas station to fill up the almost empty tank and all three used the facilities. As they drove down the idyllic streets, surrounded by beautiful houses and manicured lawns, Dean was focused on watching for anything amiss.

“What do we know Sam?” he asked his brother beside him, “That whoever took this girl did it in a white van. That she’s bound and that she’s inside the gate at a mental hospital. Anything else?”

“No, I’m sorry Dean. That’s all I’ve got.”

The front of the hospital appeared quite nice from a distance. It was a sprawl of gothic architecture in red brick. Surrounding it was a neighborhood of charming bungalows and quaint two story houses with flower beds lining their walkways and the first of the fall leaves littering their sidewalks. It was even bordered on one side by a school. There was nothing menacing about it.

“This town is like Mayberry,” observed Dean as they drove the long lane leading up to the front of the hospital.

“Do you think we should just be coming up the front drive like this Dean?”

“I don’t see how it would matter,” said Dean. But he turned anyway, taking a right on a winding road that appeared to circle the grounds.

As they drove, they were silent, each looking around at the wide variety of buildings that scattered the campus. From far off, the red brick building out front had looked nice. But from closer, the age and structural integrity was indicative of a facility with no budget for repairs. This was once a stunning place, it was obvious in the layout of the grounds and the grandeur of the buildings. But now, it was a dump.

“This can’t be the right place,” whispered Sam, “There’s no fence. What I saw looked like a prison.”

Dean’s heart sunk as he considered the possibility that in his hurry, he’d brought them to the wrong location. Even more worrisome was the idea that he may have driven them all two days farther away from the place they needed to be… where a desperate girl was waiting for a rescue that may now fail because of his impatience. His mind flashed back to Bobby’s words, “You’re too wet behind the ears, son.”

“There!” yelled Sam, startling him from his self-loathing. Dean followed Sam’s pointing finger and his eyes landed on what looked like a prison in the distance. He maneuvered around a corner and guided Baby onto the road that ran parallel to the fenceline. As they rolled past the gate, Dean saw a small sign proclaiming it to be “Biggs Forensic Center”. There were two facilities that both appeared newer than the other buildings on the State Hospital Grounds. They were separated by a road and both were individually fenced.

Afraid to draw attention to himself by circling the place a third time, Dean steered off the concourse and back out into the lovely neighborhood that they’d come through before. They headed to the town library to dig into the research and see what they could find out.

Once inside, he and Sam pulled up chairs at the table of computers. Cas was, again, watching out for them as they worked. Dean immediately sunk into the results of his first search and began combing through the articles and blogs, trying to find anything they could use. It felt like only a few minutes had passed when they were interrupted.

“Excuse me gentlemen,” said a kindly voice from the doorway, “but the library closes at 8pm.”

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 8:09. He nodded to her and stood.

“Well, that was a waste,” he muttered as they emerged back out onto the sidewalk.

“Not really,” countered Sam, “I got some good info.”

“What didja get?” he asked as they crossed the small lot towards the Impala.

“Let’s talk about it over food,” replied Sam, turning to look at Cas, “are you hungry Cas?”

“Yes.”

Dean smiled warmly; Cas was always hungry. “I saw a pizza place a few blocks back, that sound okay?”

“No Dean,” replied Sam firmly, “I want food, not grease.”

Dean looked over at Cas and joked, “The party’s over now. No more burgers for us.”

“Over there,” pointed Sam, directing Dean’s gaze beyond the pizza place to a sophisticated looking restaurant down the block. The sign named it Beks and Sam was giving puppy eyes. “Real food,” he begged, “And it looks like they have a bar. You could get a drink. Come on, Dean. Let’s go there.”

With a pained sigh, Dean swung his Baby into a parking space. They entered and moved to a table along the wall. It wasn’t busy and the waitress appeared right away to take their drink order. When she returned with their beverages, she pulled out her order pad and took down what they wanted.

“I’ll have the Salmon,” said Sam, “with vegetables.”

Dean met eyes with Cas across the table and ordered the sirloin, with potato. He watched Cas mimic his order and then then they all handed over their menus. Once the server left their table, Dean leaned forward and said, “Okay Sammy, what didja find out at the library?”

“Well for starters, those buildings that are fenced in… those are the maximum security facilities for the criminally insane.”

“Okay,” he nodded, waiting for more.

“And I don’t think she’s in there,” finished Sam.

“You don’t?”

“No. What I saw was the view of that fence from farther away. If she were in the maximum security building, the fence would have looked much closer. I think, she’s on the other side of the road… it just happens that she can see the fence from her window… that’s what I think.”

“We need to drive back over there,” said Dean, wanting to get the lay of the land.

“Well, I used Google Streetview to check out the area a little. There’s two possible buildings. Both are out of service. They’re literally just sitting empty. Both have a view to the fence we saw and from about the distance I’d expect based on what we’ve seen.”

“Nice work Sammy!” said Dean proudly. He glanced over at Cas, but the man wasn’t even paying attention, staring off over Dean’s shoulder. Glancing behind himself, he saw a TV playing over the bar. He turned away from his friend’s vacant stare and returned his attention to his brother.

“Anything else?”

“Maybe. One of the buildings has a covered port for vehicles to pull inside. It’s open to the street. Since she was in a van at one point, I think we should start with that building.”

“Yeah,” nodded Dean, “Good thinking. You want to go in tonight?”

“Yes,” said Sam firmly, “But I think we should wait until 3 or 4 in the morning. If possible, I’d like to go in while he’s sleeping.”

“He?”

“Yeah, he,” said Sam, “Or they… you know… whoever took her.”

Dean nodded and leaned back to wait for his food. Cas was still preoccupied so he pushed his foot over under the table and bumped Cas’ leg. When their eyes met, Dean gave him a little tip of the head and a wink. Cas’ answering smile warmed his chest.

They didn’t have to wait long for their food, and they passed the time strategizing about how best to watch the building and what to carry with them when they went in. Cas seemed to pay attention as they spoke, but his attention seemed elsewhere as they ate and drank.

“Dean,” whispered Cas, leaning in as they moved to exit the restaurant, “I’d like us to walk around the block once before we get in the car.”

It was a strange request, but they had nothing to do for a few hours anyway. “Sure,” he said as they stepped out into the dark, “Why?”

“Don’t draw attention to what we’re talking about,” he answered. The tone in which it was said immediately set Dean on edge.

He nodded his understanding, pulling Sam along with them as they set off down the sidewalk. Sam seemed to know something was up right away and, much like Dean, he easily agreed to go along with the detour without asking questions.

As they made the first left, Dean watched Cas cast a covert glance over his shoulder. But since Cas said nothing, Dean said nothing. The three walked along in relative silence on the wide sidewalk until it was time to turn left again. This time, Cas dropped a coin and paused to pick it up. Dean turned to see Cas take two quick steps to catch back up to them.

“We’re being followed,” he said firmly. We must split up.”

Dean felt his pulse kick up a notch at the words. “What’s the plan Cas?” he asked, wondering why they would split up if being followed.

“Would you like to know which of us is being followed?” asked Cas in rough voice, “Because I’d like to know, and splitting up is the best way to find out which of us is the target of surveillance.”

“Got it,” Dean said, “What do you wanna do?”

“Are you armed?” Cas asked him.

“You know it. I wish you were too.”

“And is Sam?”

“Of course.”

“Well, at the next corner, have Sam go left. I’ll go right and you go straight.”

“And then what?” Dean pressed.

“That is the extent of my official plan.”

“Cas,” barked Dean in a low but angry voice, “I’m not sending my brother off alone. That’s not the kind of security I was planning to provide him when I asked for your help in protecting my brother.”

“Dean, if you have a better plan, I’m happy to hear it.”

“I vote we split,” injected Sam.

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded. “Cas, don’t you take your eyes off my baby brother,” Dean cautioned. And with that, they split. Sam turned the corner and Dean crossed the street. The opposite side was lined with private homes. To his right, Dean could see Cas in his peripheral vision, crossing the street and putting his back to Sam. It didn’t feel right. But deep down inside, Dean knew that taking action would most likely be his responsibility. No one was following him, he was sure of it. No one needed to… he was the ordinary one in this equation. Sam and Cas were the ones that were gifted; the ones that someone might want to use… the one’s more likely to have an interested party following them.

He forced himself to reach the middle of the road before glancing over at Sam. As he did, the corner of his eye caught the movement of a figure in glow of the streetlight. It was small, feminine. His mind flicked to Anna. Immediately he spun back, running to intercept. He could not let her get anywhere near Sammy. His hand was gripping his Colt from the harness as he ran and before he even raised it, his thumb was already flicking the safety.

“Anna!” he yelled, hoping to alert Cas. The petite assassin with long wavy hair was moving in darkness along the building when he cried out, but when his voice cut the silence, she broke into a run towards Sam.

“Shit!” he cursed as he willed his legs to go faster. He felt like he was moving in slow motion. She was fast too… gaining on Sam who had turned at the sound of Dean’s voice.

Unable to get a clear shot in the darkness between streetlamps, Dean forged ahead. Coming over the curb on a long stride, he barreled into her. The force of him rocked her from her feet and pummeled both of them into the brick building.

It took a moment to place his feet in wide stance and get his hand to her throat. But even as he did, he already knew it wasn’t Anna. He’d never have had a shot at Anna. The fact that he’d shouted and run her down and was still alive… that alone was testament that this was not Anna.

But if that wasn’t enough, the terror in her eyes as he focused on her face was evidence as well. His mind grappled with the possible identity of this terrified woman as he brought his hand to her mouth to hush her screams.

He raised his weapon to her temple and shouted, “Who are you?”

She was trying to speak behind his hand, but it only came out as a soft whining. It was a very pleading tone to be used by anyone who was a threat. She was small and weak as she struggled against the weight of his body pinning her and tears now leaked from the corners of her eyes.

Now, with her so easily subdued and flanked on each side by his brother and Cas, Dean lowered his voice.

“Tell you what,” he said more calmly, “I’ll take my hand off if you don’t scream.”

Before she could even agree, Cas was speaking in his ear.

“Dean, she’s not a Dark.”

Dean glanced at Cas and gave a nod. He relaxed the gun away from her, letting it fall to his side. He watched her wide eyes calm a bit with the action. Then, he tentatively pulled his hand away from her mouth, poised to cover it again if she screamed. She didn’t.

“Who are you,” asked Sam softly.

Dean watched her doe eyes swivel towards his brother. “I – I’m Ava,” she whimpered, “Ava Wilson. I drove 400 miles to find you.”

“Well,” said Dean, “You have our attention.”

“You’re in danger,” she said softly to Sam. “You’re going to die.”

“What?” said Dean and Sam in unison.

“You,” she said to Sam, “you are going to die. I dreamed it.”

All of them turned to face Cas when he spoke. “I saw you,” he said in a low and threatening voice, “You were watching us in the bar. Why did you not speak with us then?”

“I knew he’d come there…” she said softly, indicating Sam. “I saw it in my dream. I’ve been sitting in that bar for three nights waiting. I’ve missed work. I thought I might be going crazy. But then you came,” she said softly, looking at Sam again.

She took a deep breath and looked back to Dean saying, “When he came and he wasn’t alone… I kinda freaked out. It’s not easy to just go up to some stranger and tell them they’re gonna bite the big one, okay?”

Dean chuckled at the thought that he’d ever perceived this waif of a woman to be a threat. “Let me check you over and we’ll buy you a drink, alright sweetheart?”

“Check me over?” she repeated questioningly.

Dean looked to Sam and he gave her the universal sign to be quiet. With puppy dog eyes, he held her hand and beseeched her to remain silent as Dean went over her clothing and shoes for listening devices. Then, convinced she was clean, they walked her around the corner and back into Beks.

Dean moved past the bar and sought out a booth toward the back where no one would be in ear shot. He gestured for Ava to sit down next to Sam and then pulled Cas in next to him. He listened intently as Ava told Sam how she’d always had nightmares… all her life. But it had only been recently that she’d found out that her dreams come true. Dean watched her face turn pitiful as she mentioned how bad she felt when she realized how many lives she may have saved if she’d understood her dreams sooner. Now, in an effort to rectify that, she’d sought out Sam and was trying to save him.

“How did you know I’d be here?” asked the youngest Winchester.

“I saw the cocktail napkin in my dream.”

Dean’s eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the napkins under their drinks. They all said ‘Beks’ on them.

“I just googled the name and this was the first place that came up. That’s how I knew what city to come to… there’s tons of “Becks” bars and taverns. But there’s only one “Beks.”

“How does it happen?” Sam asked her pointedly.

“You blow up. You go into an abandoned building and you trip on a tiny chord and blow up.”

“Trip wire,” Dean and Cas said in unison.

Sam looked up at them and nodded.

“The guy you’re going in after… I’ve seen his face. He’s a bad man. But you can’t go. You’re not going to come out of there alive. Your shoe… it’s all that’s left when the smoke clears… just a bloody shoe.”

“What can you tell me about the man?” Sam asked her.

“Um, not much,” she answered, chewing her lip. “He’s black. Tall. His hair is very short. His smile is creepy. He’s got a van. It’s full of guns and knives and bombs and stuff. He’s killed a lot of people.”

“He has someone,” said Sam firmly, “I saw her in a dream. He kidnapped her in the white van and now he’s holding her in an abandoned building. I don’t know how much time she has left.”

“You saw her in a dream?”

“Yeah, I get the visions too.”

“Well,” she said snarkily, “That’s just rich.”

“How so?”

“I got a vision that you needed saving. You got a vision that she needed saving. Two of us came across the country to save someone. Whoever sent us these dreams is an asshole. Why not cut out the middle man, huh? Just send all the information to one of us? Save the other a trip? I’m planning _my wedding_ you know. I’m busy. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Look,” Sam told her, reaching out and taking her arm, “I don’t know why this happening to us. But there’s a connection between us. I think we should stay in touch. Maybe we can help each other.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she huffed, pulling out her phone to add Sam’s number.

“What are we going to do?” Sam asked, looking at Dean for an answer.

“I’m not sure yet, but there’s gotta be a way,” Dean turned his attention to Cas, hoping he’d have a suggestion.

As he did, Ava jumped in with “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“What?” all three gaped, stunned by her outburst.

“You’re not leaving town? I drove all the fuck-way into blue grass country to save your ass and you’re still going after the girl?”

“Well, yeah,” answered Sam. “But thanks to you, we know there’s a trip wire and we can’t go in through the door.”

“You can’t go in through ANY door,” she said firmly. “There’s wires on all of them. Every door. You can’t save her. The dude sit’s in the window with a damn sniper riffle. He’s got explosives at every entrance. If you go in there… you die.”

“We can’t not go,” said Sam softly, “Look, Ava, I can’t thank you enough for coming all this way to warn me. But I can’t just leave that girl to die.”

“Do you even know her?” she challenged.

“No. But you don’t know me either. And you still care, don’t you.”

“Not anymore,” she said with an eye roll. The three of them stared at her slack jawed as the got to her feet. “Look. I came here to warn you and I’ve warned you. If you still go in there and you die… at least it isn’t on me. I’ll see ya Sam.” With that, she turned on her heel and started to walk away.

“Wait,” Sam called to her back.

She stopped walking but didn’t turn back towards them.

“Which floor?” asked Sam.

“What?” she barked, spinning to look at them again.

“You said he sits by the window and looks out with a rifle. Which window? Which floor?”

“Second floor,” she responded, posture sagging, “There’s four panes in the window. One is cracked and one is missing.”

“Thank you Ava,” said Sam meekly as she turned to leave for good.

Dean watched her go. No one said anything for a few minutes and he took a swig of his beer. Sam stared at his burner phone where Ava’s contact information now lingered. Cas, for some reason, was watching Sam intently.

Dean tipped back his mug of beer again and drained the contents. Then he took a deep breath and let it out. “Well,” he said listlessly, “Any suggestions?”

“Set a trap,” said Cas.

“City Hall,” said Sam.

“What?” asked Dean, unable to understand either because they’d both spoken at the same time.

“Rather than going in for her, we can set a trap and wait for him to come out,” supplied Cas, explaining his idea.

“That sounds good Cas. But I don’t like waiting. We can’t sit outside and bide our time while he’s got her trussed up in there. She’s waiting for someone to come save her. I know what that feels like. Cas,” he implored, “We gotta get in there.”

“City Hall,” said Sam again.

“What about it?”

“The blue prints for the building… they had to be filed with the city… to get permits to build. If we get our hands on those, we can plan another way in. Come up an elevator shaft or go down an air vent… you know,” prompted Sam, “secret agent style!”

“You want to just get some sleep and head to city hall in the morning?” asked Dean, motioning the waitress for their check.

“No,” said Sam as he got to his feet. “We’re not letting her rot another night in there. We go now… get what we need.”

“What, break into City Hall?”

“Yeah Dean, you said it yourself. This is Mayberry. How hard can it be?”

.


	12. Saving Sarah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Ravenwolf36 for the edit!

“This is our third time circling the grounds today,” said Dean, looking over at Sam, “This needs to be our last lap. He’s going to notice us.”

“Don’t go past,” Sam responded, “Pull in there.”

Dean followed Sam’s pointing finger and swung the Impala into the employee parking at Biggs. There was no guard shack here to check out the entering vehicles, the only security point being at the actual entrance to the building.  Dean slides the car into a space between two other vehicles. Here, they have the ability to watch the abandoned building across the road but still remain well hidden.

City hall had been easy. There had been closed circuit monitoring cameras mounted, but they weren’t even on. There was also no security system. Dean had literally gotten in with a lock pick set. They’d kept to darkness, not using flashlights since the large windows would have made it easy to be seen from the street.

They’d walked the wide hallways in the dark and found the records room for the permitting office. Another pause to pick a lock and they had access to all they needed. The place was a mess. Luckily, all the Fulton State Hospital Stuff was in one location. Unfortunately, it was a monster pile of boxes, tubs and crates.

While Sammy dug through the paperwork, Dean had pulled Cas out into the hall. They’d settled on the steps, a dozen yards or so from where Sam was working.

“How you feelin?” Dean had asked, knowing that they’d never really had a chance to talk after their experience in the bedroom at the cabin. It felt like a hundred years ago now.

In response to Dean’s question, Cas had only given a shrug.

“Do you have questions?” Dean had prodded, knowing that Cas probably did.

“No,” Cas had answered, “I feel a little embarrassed that I…” his voice had trailed off, so Dean encouraged him by putting his arm around Cas’ shoulder and giving a squeeze.

“C’mon buddy,” he’d said lightly, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about between us, right?”

“I suppose. I just wish I hadn’t wet myself in your hand.”

“Wet yourself?”

“Yes. I just couldn’t hold it back.”

“I don’t want you to,” Dean had reassured him, “What makes you think you should hold that back?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well don’t. No one does. You didn’t wet yourself Cas, you came. That’s the good part! Don’t hold that back.”

“You didn’t mind it? That I got you all sticky?”

“I loved it Cas,” he whispered, leaning in, “And I can’t wait to do it again.”

The look on Cas’ face when he’d said that was one he’d remember for life, Dean was sure of it. He’d leaned in and kissed him then, unable to hold back his affection. But he’d had to pull apart too soon, forced to remember that somewhere nearby, a woman was hanging on by a very thin tether and praying for someone to rescue her.

“Let’s go save a life first,” he’d said as he’d pulled Cas to his feet.

Once they’d gotten what they needed from city hall, they’d chosen a deserted section of blacktop and opened the trunk. Cas had, once again, declined to arm himself. Dean didn’t like it, but Sam sided with Cas and he was voted down.

They’d readied themselves with all they needed from the trunk and pulled a few items into the car with them. Now, parked in the employee lot at Biggs, Dean reached down and plucked one of those useful items from the seat.

He turned his body awkwardly in the drivers seat and pointed the binoculars toward the abandoned building. He switched them back and forth between night vision and regular as his eyes roved over everything.

“I really think this is our best angle,” said Sam softly from the backseat.

“I would agree,” nodded Cas from the passenger seat.

Dean was certain they were right. He just didn’t like the idea that someone on security detail might notice his vehicle not having a parking pass and call it in.

The building they were watching appeared to have once been a dormitory of some kind. It was brick and shaped like a “T”. From this vantage, they were looking at it from about 300 feet. They couldn’t see the long side of the building, only the short side of it. In the distance was the leg of the “T”. Until they got out of the car, they wouldn’t even be able to see that part of the building because of the angle. From here, they had the best approach because there was only one second floor window to watch as they moved in. From any other direction, they’d have had at least six.

From here they also had a visual on the covered parking area that accessed the building… the place that Sam had marked as the likely entry point where the creep would have parked his van to unload his cargo. Dean could make out no vehicles in there and there was no white van anywhere in the vicinity when they’d circled. So, it seemed safe to assume that the captor was gone. For the moment, anyway. But, not knowing for sure that the man was working alone, they still exercised caution as they prepared to enter.

In the moment while Sam’s attention was on fixed on getting out of the car, Dean leaned across the seat and grabbed Cas with a rough hand, pulling him in for a quick kiss. It was hard and fast, but he couldn’t go in without one.

When they exited the car, he passed the binoculars to Cas. “Watch our asses,” he said as he stepped away from Cas with Sam. “Honk once if you see a white van. Twice if you have trouble with security. To abort, just lay long and loud on that horn, okay?”

“Yes Dean. But I hate being left here as the lookout.”

“I know,” Dean reassured him, “But a few hours ago, I mistook Ava for Ana. I think we can all agree that when it comes to being the look out, you’re the best man for the job.”

He’d backed away from Cas with a wink, hoping to appear more confident than he felt. Sam fell into step with him as they walked briskly through the chilly night air, breaking into a jog as they crossed the road. They approached the building with a view into the covered parking area but didn’t enter there. Instead, they followed along the exterior to the back corner where a chain link fence surrounded the HVAC compressors that had once controlled the air temperature inside this building. They scaled the fence, Dean going first. When he reached the top, he worked hard to balance himself as he reached up overhead to the concrete slab that jutted out above them. It was the base of a balcony on the second floor. He slid his hand along the crumbling, aged cement until he felt the anchored support post of a railing.

Then, with something to wrap his hand around, he was able to grip tightly and haul himself up. It was hard to keep quiet as he heaved his body up, leg coming over the cement and knee locking tightly around another railing anchor. His muscles were burning with the effort of hanging on while he worked his body between the bottom of the railing and the top of the cement.

Once he was safely perched on the edge, but not yet fully pushed onto the balcony, he reached his free arm down to Sam who was poised at the top of the chain link fence below. He snapped his finger and soon felt Sam’s hand pressing a can of spray paint into his.

He took it and carefully worked to move it to his left hand. Then, he sprayed it out into the airspace he was about to enter, hoping to visualize any wires that he presently couldn’t see. When he was certain there was nothing within arm’s length, he shoved himself out onto the floor of the second story balcony.

They’d been timing security patterns for hours, so he knew they had almost twenty minutes before anyone would cruise back by this corner. But still, he was anxious to get Sam up onto the balcony with him. They were far to exposed as they scaled the outside of the building. He shot another long pulse of spray paint out into the air, drifting a soft cloud over the space he planned to occupy as he slid over and made room for Sam. Still he saw nothing. Free to move about more now, he rolled back to assist Sam in climbing through the small space he’d just been wedged in.

Once they were both on the balcony, they took a quick breather. Dean sprayed ahead of them, giving his eyes plenty of time to adjust and look for wires as they crawled towards the large set of windows that they were targeting.

Clearly this balcony had once been in use, likely a smoking area off of an employee’s lounge. But at some point in the buildings history, the doors had been removed and the hole bricked over at the bottom. The brick now rose up to waist level. A large set of paned windows had then been set into the wall to replace the doors. This was how they were getting in.

As he stood, Dean knew Cas could see him in the binoculars so he shot a thumbs up to make sure his friend knew that things were going as planned so far. Then he focused his eyes on peering in through one of the broken panes of glass. The path was clear. Sadly, the largest panes of glass, the ones they’d actually be able to fit through, were still intact. Dean pulled out the mini crow bar and began to pry at the flimsy piece of rusted metal that separated the large panes of glass. Sam stepped up next to him and held the glass as he popped the framework loose by rocking the tool. With the framing bent back, he was able to widen the space with his gloved hands, leveraging his weight against it. After that, he and Sam we able to carefully slide the heavy pane of glass out and set it to the ground. One after the other, they pushed themselves in through the opening.

Again, Dean went first. As he came through the window, he backed his rear into the building and was surprised to find a decent window ledge to put his toes on as he worked his upper body through. Again, Sam handed him the can of spray paint and he used it to dust over the area around him before dropping to the floor. He dusted again before moving aside for Sam to come to through.

Once Sam was inside, they looked around and breathed a sigh of relief. This was the part they had been worried about… being detected as they entered the building. But they’d made it this far with no honks from Cas. “So far so good,” muttered Dean. He took the lead then, and they made their way cautiously, spraying puffs every few feet to be sure they weren’t stepping on a wire as they approached the freight elevator. Dean tried to be vigilant as well as open minded. They’d been told there were trip wires, but there could be lots of other traps set as well. Prying open the security door to the elevator shaft proved more difficult than expected, especially when they were working so hard to be quiet. Once inside, though, they were able to climb the elevator shaft and ascend to the third floor.

From then on, it was awful. There was an access behind the elevator shaft, but it was nasty. As Dean turned a long suffering face to Sam and crinkled his nose, his baby brother took the opportunity to slide in ahead of him, wanting to go first this time. Dean held his breath for as long as he could when he followed. But eventually, he had to breathe. He worked hard to hold back his gag reflex as he took in rancid air. Dead rodents and live insects squished under their knees and gloved palms while they crawled through the ductwork.

Twenty feet had never felt like so far. When they turned towards the center of the building, Dean knew they were almost there. The flimsy metal beneath their knees grew noisy when they moved out away from the walls, supported by metal bands and brackets now, rather than cement. They had to move very slowly and very carefully. Even with the effort to be stealthy, any human below would be inclined to think something was moving through the vents. With any luck, they’d think it was just a raccoon… or a very large rat.

When they reached the grate they’d been planning to use, he waited patiently as Sam assessed the room that he could likely now see between the slats of the vent cover.Dean’s view was nothing more than Sam’s ass and feet. But there were lights on below, he could see the glow of it shining up from below to illuminate Sam’s body.

They were now suspended over one of only three rooms on the second floor that had no windows to the outside. The other two were just closets. Dean waited patiently for Sam to do what he needed to. He took the tools that his brother passed to him from between his knees, which must’ve been easier for Sam than getting them back into his pockets.

Soon, the sound of clinking filled their small space and Dean watched as Sam manipulated the vent cover off and held it as he lowered his head into the room below. It was difficult to let his brother be that vulnerable. His heart thundered as he absorbed the silence and thanked all the gods that no gunfire had erupted from below. The clang of the vent cover hitting the cement floor beneath them was loud and as the noise echoed, Sam added to it by clunking around in the duct as he crawled forward and then dropped his legs down through the hole.

Dean moved forward and laced his arms around Sam’s Chest as he hung there, absorbing the weight of his brothers body while Sam moved his hands to the edge and got a good grip.

“Okay,” Sam whispered when he was ready for Dean to let go.

Dean watched his brother’s arm muscles flex as he lowered his body into the room. As Sam disappeared below, Dean grasped both his brother’s wrists, one in each hand, and braced himself. “Go,” he said, giving his brother permission to release his grip.

Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his body as he worked to lower his brother as close to the ground as possible. But eventually, Sam would have to drop the last few feet. When his brother gave the word, Dean released him.

 

 

 

Cas watched Dean and Sam as they scaled and entered the building. So far, luck had been with them. Nothing had even moved while they’d been exposed… not even a car driving by. He released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding when the two disappeared the window on the balcony. Shortly after the brothers entered, Cas noticed an approaching security detail. As Dean had instructed him, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped he pack on his palm as the car drove past him.

The car slowed and the driver, in uniform, looked out the window at him. He nodded to the man, acknowledging him as he lifted a cigarette to his lips and cupped his hands to light it. Dean had told him that this action alone would likely encourage security to move on if they slowed. But unfortunately, the man lowered his window and addressed Cas directly.

“Nice night, huh?” said the man, clearly probing.

“Yeah,” answered Cas, trying to sound cool like Dean. He mimicked Dean’s body language as he leaned back against the impala, trying to emit an appearance of boredom. “Just waiting for someone,” he said with a nod, turning his attention away from the security vehicle and hoping it would move on. As he pretended to inhale, movement caught his eye across the road. He almost didn’t see it, distracted as he was, but it was there. Under the cover of night a black man in dark clothing had darted around the corner of the “T” shaped building and into the covered parking area.

Cas’ conversation with security had been this man’s opening to run to the building. Now, still trying to look unimportant to security, he shaped his fingers like a “V” and gripped the cigarette between them, pulling it from his mouth. He tried to appear nonchalant as his eyes moved over the neighboring parking lot and spotted a white van that hadn’t been there before. Shit.

Cas’ brain churned with what to do, and he settled on a plan quickly. Acknowledging the security man with another nod as he did it, he turned and shrugged off his jacket. He opened the car door and leaned in, as if to lay the jacket on his seat. As he did, he leaned heavily on the horn for a long second. He prayed that Dean had heard it. Then, as he stood up, he forced himself to laugh with the security guard. He hoped the man would chuckle at Cas’ perceived clumsiness and drive off. Fortunately, he did exactly that.

Cas waited less than two heart beats before he spat the cigarette to the ground and reached in through the window. Grabbing his jacket, he pulled it on as he ducked down to run at a crouch alongside the headlights of the parked cars. Here, he was out of the line of sight for the security vehicle that was now moving away from him.

As the he neared the road, Cas glanced behind himself and saw the tail lights of the security guard turn a corner and disappear. He now had about twenty minutes until they’d be back.

He fled now, running at top speed as he crossed the lawn of the abandoned building and approached the covered parking area from the side. As he ran under the roof and into the open parking bay, he saw a door swinging closed. There was nowhere to hide in here… just brick walls and one door. So he ran straight for the door, barely catching it before it closed again.

The moment he stepped through the doorway, he was swathed in darkness. Cas let the door click shut behind him, knowing that the man who’d come through it would likely miss the click of the door if he didn’t hear it. He also knew that this place was booby trapped. They were sure of trip wires, but there could be other traps as well. His best bet was to follow this man as closely as possible and mimic all his movements exactly. If only his eyes would adjust to the dark so he could take a step!

 

 

 

Dean waited, watching the top of his brother's head as he landed, swiveled around and took in his surroundings. Then, Sam turned his face up to Dean and motioned for him to drop down. He arranged himself much the way Sam had and hung his feet down. He felt Sam’s arms circle him at the knee for a moment. The feel of it was reassuring for knowing how far he’d be dropping. He let go and as he absorbed the landing with his knees, Sam’s hands were there to steady him. Instinctively, they moved to stand back to back.

“What now?” whispered Sam.

“Does any of this look familiar from your dreams?” he asked his brother.

“Nope.”

As they talked, Dean was looking around the room. There was some old furniture in the room, a busted up conference table and some chairs which had been pushed to a corner. Someone had made a bed in here. There were some cases sitting about, some were open and others not. They were obviously full of supplies. This, Dean suspected, was where the bad guy slept.

“Her room has a window, right?” whispered Dean, “Let’s start checking the rooms with windows.”

Sam nodded and started to move, checking for wires with every step. As Sam was checking wires, Dean’s eyes roved over everything else and watched for anything out of place that would indicate tampering. They entered the hallway carefully, guns drawn and ready. As they stalked down the hall on silent feet, Dean let Sam lead and he brought up the rear, keeping his body turned back and his gun arm at the ready should anyone sneak up behind them.

Sam was quick about checking the rooms as they went, only bothering with the rooms on the sides of the building that would have a view to the fence where Cas now lingered. Sam paused in each doorway, sweep the room visually and then pivoting back into the hallway. It was very methodical.

At the fourth doorway, Sam stopped. Dean kept his guard up as he listened to the hiss of his brother spraying paint to look for trip wires. When Sam stepped inside the room Dean knew that his brother had found something. He stepped backward into the doorway and posted himself there like a sentry, sweeping his pistol from left to right as his eyes watched the hall in case anyone should sneak up on them.

From behind him, he heard his brother speak… but not to him.

“I’m Sam,” he whispered, “That’s my brother. We’ve come to get you out of here.”

Relief flooded his veins as he heard the words. Sam would not have been speaking them if they’d just found a corpse. Clearly, they’d made it time. Sam was speaking to the victim.

“Do you know him?” Dean heard Sam ask.

“No,” came a faint, feminine voice. “Never seen him before in my life. But I know him now. His name is Gordon,” Dean heard her say. But even with his back to the girl and his eyes scanning the hall, Dean could hear the revulsion in her voice as she said his name.

“Is he alone? Or are there others?”

“He’s alone, but others have been here.”

“Sam,” whispered Dean, suddenly experiencing an unsettling feeling that their luck was running out.

“Dean,” Sam answered him, “I need the knife.”

Dean dropped his eyes to his feet for a moment as he pulled the pocket knife from his left boot. When he turned to toss it to Sam, he was happy to see that the girl wasn’t naked. Her face was bloody, clothes were filthy, but Dean hoped that her being dressed was an indication that she’d not been raped.

When Sam began to cut her ropes, Dean turned back to the hall to resume look out duty. All he saw was a blinding movement and then he was spinning. His jaw racked with splintering pain that spread out over his entire skull.

As he put his hands out to break his fall, he realized that he’d been cold cocked. He landed with his chin to the floor and fought hard to keep from passing out. His vision blurred and sound distorted strangely. There was ringing in his ears. He scrambled to get his feet under him, even as he heard the sound of his gun skittering away across the cement floor.

With all he had, Dean fought the blackness that surged from the periphery and threatened to take him over. He balanced on his hands and knees, swaying forward a little and then falling forward like a tripod as he tried to reach for his weapon.

From behind him he heard a deep and commanding voice say, “Don’t bother. You’ll never reach it before I blow him away.”

Forcing his eyes up, Dean could see Sammy. He was crouched, knife in hand and interrupted while he’d been cutting his girl free. Clearly Gordon’s words were meant for Sam. Dean could see, in the blue light from the window, that Sam had been reaching for the pistol he’d tucked into the back of his pants.

Though Dean was facing away from Gordon, sprawled on the floor, he could sense that there was a gun on him. That’s why Sam had stopped reaching for his own weapon… he’d not wanted to give the guy a reason to shoot Dean.

“Who sent you guys, huh?” barked the man to Dean’s back. Dean turned to look at the man, praying for an evil monologue… something… anything to stall the time. He may have lost his Colt, but he had Bobby’s back up pistol strapped to his right ankle. If given enough time, he might be able to re-gain the upper hand.

“What do you mean, ‘who sent us’?” questioned Sam, obviously stalling.

“I mean,” said Gordon, “who sent you for _her_?”

Dean glanced at his brother, still crouching near the girl with a pocket knife in one hand. His eyes flicked to the girl… the beautiful girl Sam had been dreaming of. She looked horrified and her expression took him back to Jeff’s basement for a moment. He remembered with stunning clarity the moment when he’d looked up and seen Cas, come to rescue him, and wondered if it was too good to be true.

Now, seeing that beautiful face crumble, he realized what had just happened to her. The cavalry had come. Her rescue had been imminent. But it had failed. And now, her hopes were crushed. The look in her eyes said she was wishing for death. But then, Dean watched them blink. Big dark eyes blinked a second time and refocused. Dean knew that look too.

He turned, then, putting eyes on Gordon’s face, just as hands swept out of the darkness from behind him. They were fast, those hands, nothing but a blur as they looped a garrote wire around the man’s neck and sliced through his flesh with a flash of pale skin and an arc of red blood that sprayed across the room. The splatter of it landed, warm and wet across Dean’s face.

He closed his eyes against it and turned his body, coming to rest on his ass as he swiped his sleeve over his face. When he blinked his eyes open again he could see Cas standing there, tall and magnificent, peering at Dean from under one raised eyebrow. There was a dead bodypiled up at his feet like an old cloak.

“You didn’t hear me honk?” Cas questioned in a deadpan voice.

Dean grinned and broke into laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sammy return to cutting ropes.

Returning his attention to Cas, Dean watched as the man fell to his knees and pulled a wallet, keys and weapon from Gordon’s dead body. His eyes tracked the movement as Cas stood and stepped over the limp body and leaned down to pull Dean up from the floor. With his feet now under him, he let go of Cas and stepped over to retrieve his Colt. Then he moved back to the doorway and trained it on the hall, keeping better watch this time as Cas stepped over to help Sam free his girl.

Dean listened as Sam spoke to her in reassuring tones, but she didn’t say anything until he asked her name.

“I’m Sarah,” she said shakily, “Sarah Blake.”

 

 

 

To exit the building, Cas led the group back the way he’d come. He warned them to be careful, not touching any walls or deviating from his careful path. They followed in silence as their leader retraced the steps he’d taken when he had followed the evil man into this place. Once they emerged into the cool night air, he was relieved to have their group together and unharmed.

He looked back at Dean, his prize. The man was bloody and despite the brave face he wore, his friend was shaken.

“Thank you,” said a breathy voice, and as Cas turned toward it, he saw the girl rising up on her tip toes to hug Sam Winchester. He cradled her in his arms and lifted her from the ground.

Cas was intrigued by Sam. Though his tinge of darkness was a stain that couldn’t be ignored, Dean’s younger brother had proven to be an enigma. He did things that Cas had never seen another Dark do. Not even Tessa. His words about saving people and his willingness to face mortal danger for the sake of a stranger were unexpected. Also, he’d been far kinder to Cas than Cas had been to him. It was very peculiar.

“We need to get moving,” said Dean.

Cas could see that his friend was still nervous and wanting to clear the scene. He agreed with the sentiment, but he had to warn them.

“Security has noticed our vehicle,” he explained. “I was engaged by a guard before I entered. The car may be under surveillance now. And we,” he added pointedly, “Are bloody.”

“Got any suggestions?” Dean asked him, holstering his weapon.

“The van,” said Cas, tipping his head towards the white van he’d seen in the adjoining lot.

“I can’t get back in that van,” whispered Sarah.

“Well,” said Dean said to her, “We can’t call the cops. And we can’t be picked up by security either. We’re wanted.”

Cas watched the girl. She was silent, but he could see that she was sorting things out in her head. It obviously didn’t sit well with her to be avoiding the police. But she clearly trusted the men who had liberated her. She was most comfortable with Sam, that was easy to see, and it was him that she gravitated towards. Cas watched as Sam tried to change her mind.

“Please,” Sam said to her reassuringly, “I’ll be with you the entire time.”

Cas waited for a moment as she deliberated and finally agreed.

“Look,” said Dean, turning to face him, “I’m the only one that’s got nobody on my tail. I’ll be the one to go get Baby. Cas, you take these guys in the van. We can meet up at the gas station on the edge of town.”

“You’re the one who has the most blood on him,” Cas answered, not liking the idea of splitting up or being separated from his Bright.

“Well, can’t you clean me up a little?” his friend argued. “I’d do it myself, but I don’t have a mirror.”

Cas nodded and stripped Dean of his jacket and outer flannel shirt which were bloody. Then he pulled off his own jacket and shirt. He tugged off his undershirt and used it to clean Dean’s face off, spitting on it to get it wet and laughing as he watched Dean cringe, hating to be wiped up with spit.

“How do you stay so clean when you kill with that thing,” chuckled Dean as he was wiped down.

Cas walked a circle around Dean, appraising him. “You look okay from a few feet away. I think you’re inconspicuous enough to retrieve your vehicle, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean joked as he stepped away from them, “If I get picked up by security, a little blood will be the least of my worries, right?”

“Dean?” he called out, pulling his over shirt and jacket back on.

“Yeah?”

“I could go with you,” he said, mostly out of selfishness. He didn’t want to be separated from Dean again. Not even for a few minutes.

As they met each other’s eyes, Cas could feel Dean understanding him. He watched Dean’s eyes flick to his brother, lingering there for a moment as Sam held Sarah and whispered reassurances to her.

“Why not?” chuckled Dean, giving Sam a nod, “Those two seem to wanna be alone anyway, right?”

Cas nodded and tossed the dead man’s keys to Sam as he turned to walk with Dean. They cut across the grass, glancing back at Sam and Sarah a few times. No one stopped them as they walked onto the lot and it was almost too easy to start up Baby and drive away. He sensed Dean glancing at him a few times from the driver’s seat, but kept his eyes on Sam and Sara as Dean drove them out of the parking lot. When they pulled out onto the main road, he heard Dean let out a sigh of relief and he did the same.

 

 

 

Dean wasn’t just happy to have Cas helping them. He was proud. The image of Cas as he’d killed Gordon filled his mind; strong, silent and deadly. He could think of nothing else as he drove them off the grounds of the mental hospital. At the next lot, he let off the gas and slowed, giving Sam an opportunity to pull out ahead of them. They followed the van through the silent pre-dawn streets of Fulton. The cool breeze from his window was refreshing and the more distance they put between their vehicles and the dead body behind them, the better he was feeling. He couldn’t help looking at Cas. Again and again. He was stunning.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” he answered, as he rolled up to a stop sign.

“You said Sam’s been having visions his entire life?”

“Yeah. When he was little, we thought they were nightmares,” Dean answered, pausing at the intersection so he could look at Cas while he explained, “Lots of kids get them. And, Sam was so young when we lost our mom… it was to be expected. But the dreams never really went away, even when he got older. It still seemed understandable to me though... Dad was always so tense and angry. He was constantly moving us around from one hotel to another… Sam never had the security of his own room or anything like that. I thought the way we lived was doing it. I think Bobby thought so too. That’s probably one of the reasons why he finally took us off dad’s hands and moved us into his place.”

Dean took a deep breath and faced forward again, ready to start moving as he finished by saying, “Once we moved in at Bobby’s and had some stability, we started keeping the journal. Sam was a teenager when we finally started putting together clues well enough to see that the dreams were real.”

“That’s interesting,” said Cas, “Both he and Ava having the dreams; meeting like this.”

“Yeah,” nodded Dean as he put his foot on the gas pedal and accelerated across the intersection.

From the passenger side, Dean heard a sharp intake of breath. He glanced over at Cas just as the man turned to him and said, “Dean, pull your weapon.”

His hand was on his gun in the blink of an eye.

“Where?” he barked, wondering from which direction danger had been spotted.

“Sam,” responded Cas.

Dean turned his attention to the van on the street, moving along about a block ahead of them. Everything seemed normal. There was a black sedan approaching from a side street and it had its turn signal on, slowing as it prepared to turn down their street.

“Dean!” Cas barked again, clearly wanting him to take action. But there was nothing to do… he saw no danger.

The headlights of the sedan swept the side of the van as it turned onto their street. Then, as the headlights momentarily blinded Dean, all hell broke loose. Machine gun fire tore into the side of the van and rocked it. The burst of light and sound was intense and Dean could hardly believe it was real. He’d never seen anything like this in real life… this was the stuff of a Bruce Willis movie.

“Dean!” shouted Cas, leaning toward him and taking the wheel, other hand on Dean’s neck trying to pull him lower as he shouted, “Get down!”

Dean didn’t listen. As the headlights bore down on him, he closed his grip firmly around his weapon and fought the hand that pulled him toward safety. When the headlights passed by him, he didn’t blink against the light. Instead, he focused intently and willed himself to _see_. Which he did. Through the dark void that descended as the headlights moved past him, Dean saw Ana’s face plain as day, her fiery red locks twisting in the wind through her open window. Her machine gun was drawn and he watched her eyes in slow motion as she recognized Cas beside him and lined up to start shooting.

Caring for nothing but her end, he looked her square in the eye and clenched his fist over the grip of his Colt. He watched with childlike glee as her head snapped back. He’d gotten her right in the forehead. She’d never even squeezed the trigger.

Cas was shouting at him, but he couldn’t make out the words. All he knew was pain and satisfaction in equal measure.

He’d killed Ana.

But Ana had killed Sam.

Dean didn’t put his eyes to the rear view mirror to watch what happened to Ana’s vehicle this time. This time he punched the gas and tore up the street, squealing to a stop at the back of the van. Dean leapt from his Baby and ran the last ten feet to the driver’s door. As his legs carried him past the body of the van, the bullet holes in the side of it registered in his mind, but didn’t pull his eyes from his focus… the door handle. When he reached it, he gripped it and flung open the door, tears streaming down his face and keeping his vision questionable. The seat was empty. There was no blood. Behind him he vaguely registered Cas’ voice but he paid it no attention… his eyes were searching for his baby brother as he climbed up into the driver’s seat and over it.

He swiped his face to clear the tears and focused as he turned his eyes toward the cargo portion of the van. First he saw shoes. Then legs. Hands. Faces. Sam. Sam. Sam.

“You okay?” he shouted as he crawled over more than one set of knobby knees to put hands on his brother’s face, “You okay?” he demanded again.

“I think so,” Sam replied, sprawled on the floor of the van with his girl and clearly dazed, “What was that?”

“Ana,” answered Dean, scanning both his brother and Sarah for blood. He found none that hadn’t already been on them.

“How did you do that?” Sam demanded.

Dean looked back to his brother’s face and opened his mouth to speak, but then he realized that his brother wasn’t speaking to him. He was speaking to Sarah… asking her how she’d done what she did. From an outsider’s perspective, it was plain to see that Sarah had done something to keep Sam alive, though she wasn’t speaking so he had no idea what.

He watched the confused pair for only a moment before he remembered that Cas was still outside the van. No one who’d seen that explosion of firepower would assume anyone in the van to be alive. Cas was probably giving Dean a minute to grieve and say good bye to his brother before they had to leave the scene.

Getting up from the floor of the van, Dean turned back toward the driver’s seat with a smile, intending to hop out of the van and tell Cas the good news… that both his brother and Sarah were fine. Besides, clearly the two of them needed a minute. He could give them that while he and Cas decided what to do next.

Seating himself in the driver’s seat for a moment as he prepared to pivot around and hop down, something caught his eye in the rear view mirror. It stopped him. He paused for a moment, eyes riveted to the scene he was seeing reflected there.

Cas was standing stiffly… clearly on guard. He was speaking to someone; a man. The man was dressed in a dark suit and tan trench coat… a disturbingly familiar outfit. Their voices were muffled, but the gentle breeze carried the sound of it past Dean’s window. He forced himself to listen carefully.

“No,” Cas was saying, “I can’t let you.”

“Cassie,” the man replied, “its orders. You know I must continue.”

“Zar,” said Cas, in a voice so low it was almost a growl, “I’ll never let you take them.”

“You can have your boys, Cassie. I don’t need them. Let me live and I’ll never tell anyone I saw you. I just need the girl.”

“I can take my friends and go?” Cas was questioning, “You won’t follow?”

At this, Dean saw Cas look up. Their eyes connected in the mirror.

“Yes, Cassie,” the man responded. "Let me leave what I need to, and take the girl. You can take your boys and go. I won’t follow and I won’t tell anyone that I’ve seen you.”

Dean watched Cas’ face carefully in the mirror and saw his friend give a nod. Dean knew that the nod wasn’t meant for the man he was speaking with. Cas’ piercing eyes told him so in the mirror. That nod was meant for Dean. He turned in his seat, careful to do so quietly, and leaned out of the van. He leveled his Colt on the man in the trench coat. The shot was tight. If his aim was poor, he might hit Cas. It was a lot of pressure for a three-fingered man. Especially when taking aim from an awkward angle. But he wasted no time. He gazed down the sight line, made a minute correction and pulled the trigger.

It was sweet relief to watch the correct man crumble to the ground. Cas stepped around the dead man and walked up to the door of the van where Dean was flipping his barrel open. He’d lost count and wanted to know how many shots he had left.

“Is your brother alive?” Cas asked him.

“Yeah,” said Dean, snapping the barrel closed and holstering his weapon, “they both are. Is anyone else coming?”

“Possibly. Get your brother and the girl. We must go. Now.”

.


	13. A New Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Ravenwolf36 for editing!!

Dean wasted no time. He knew that when Cas said “now,” he meant it. Turning his back on the dead man in the street, he leapt back into the van. Sam and Sarah were still on the floor, but sitting up now. They were speaking urgently in soft tones and when he thundered in, they broke apart and gave him their attention.

“We gotta move, now,” he barked loudly.

Both were immediately on their feet and moving to the front. As the three exited the van, Cas was already pulling the Impala up beside them. Sam and Sarah piled into the back seat. Dean flung himself in the passenger seat, his eyes roving over the scene in his rear view mirror. It grew smaller behind them as Cas drove away. It really did look like a movie set… the van riddled with bullet holes and a body crumpled in the street… broken glass shining like spilled diamonds in glow of a nearby street lamp.

Lights had come on in some neighboring homes and it was likely that the police dispatch here in modern day Mayberry was blowing up with 911 calls. But thankfully, all area residents had known better than to step outside to investigate the telltale sounds of machine gun fire.

Glancing behind him, Dean saw Sam sitting quietly, Sarah in his arms. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to disturb what little peace or solace they were finding in the embrace. Looking over at Cas, Dean could see his face was troubled. It wasn’t fear though, it was sadness.

“You okay man?” Dean asked in a hushed tone.

“I’d like to know what road to take Dean, the highway we came in on will be a bad idea.”

Dean pulled the map from the glovebox and used the light from his burner phone to search for a route. He didn’t have to consider for long.

“Take a right up here, after Walgreens.”

“What road is this?” asked Cas as he cornered it too fast.

“Highway Z,” Dean replied. “If anyone is following our black marks, they’ll think we’ve headed east. There’s a gravel road a few miles up that no one would expect us to take. Anybody following us will think we’re still headed east, but the gravel cut’s north. We can pick up a westbound highway when we’re clear of town.”

“Perfect,” answered Cas.

When they approached the turn off, Cas extinguished the headlights and they drove slowly and carefully as they cornered. They had no visual pursuers at this time, but Dean knew that part of disappearing was to be invisible from the air as well as the ground. He watched the road ahead with a pounding pulse that he could feel in his ears and forehead. It went against his instincts to move so slowly, but he trusted Cas.

They crawled along the gravel road at a snail’s pace, not kicking up any dust or emitting any light. The car was full of tension. No one spoke. The minutes ticked by – five, ten, twenty. Dean’s neck was stiff and his body was wound up tight as they made slow progress. The most nerve racking part of the drive was passing under the overpass at I70; the light of day was bearing down on them and they were losing their cover. Once they’d come out to the north of 70, Cas accelerated and drove like normal. Dean was able to relax a bit then, pulling out the map to choose their next road. When he was ready to put the map down, he glanced around the car. Sam and Sarah were silent in the back and Cas still looked sad. Once more he tried to ask if his friend was alright.

“Dean,” he answered in a gravelly voice, “This night saw the death of two siblings. I understand that they’re not family by your definition, but I feel regret.”

“I’m sorry Cas,” he said softly, laying a hand on his friend’s thigh to try and comfort. “How did they find us anyway?” he asked, “We’ve been so careful.”

“They didn’t find us. They found _her_.”

“And we just happened to be there?”

“Yes.”

Dean knew it was time. He’d given his brother and Sarah all the reprieve he could allow. It was time to ask some questions. He pivoted his shoulders to face the couple in the backseat.

“Why do they want you?” he asked, looking at Sarah.

“She’s special Dean,” said Sam softly, answering for her. “She’s telepathic. She can talk to other people with her mind.”

Dean was silent for a moment - dozens of questions all competing to be the next.

Sam spoke again during his pause. “I think that’s why my visions were different with her,” he said, “because they weren’t coming from me. I was receiving them from her.”

“So she sent you the image of the sign that led us here?”

“Yes.”

“Can you talk?” Dean asked, looking at the girl and wondering why Sam was answering for her.

“Yes,” she answered.

Dean didn’t miss the way his brother’s arms tightened around her as she spoke for the first time.

“How long have you been telepathic?” he asked her.

“I’m not sure,” she answered softly, “Maybe I’ve always been this way and just didn’t know it. But I’ve only recently discovered what I can do.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York. New Paltz. My dad has a shop there, art and estate sales. When we stop somewhere, I’d like to call him. I’ve been missing for so long - I’m sure he’s worried sick.”

Dean wanted to tell her no. But instead, he changed the subject.

“Wait a minute,” he said, looking back and forth between his brother and Sarah, “Why would anyone kidnap a girl from New York and drive her to Missouri?” He glanced at Cas and saw a stoic profile, lips pursed. His friend offered no answers.

Much like he’d known Cas was no ordinary homeless man… Dean now knew that Sarah was no ordinary kidnapping victim. She’d been taken too far, guarded too fiercely. And, the fact that she had a telepathic gift could not be ignored.

“Did Gordon talk to you about your gift?” he asked her, “Did he try to develop it or use it?”

“Not really, but he knew about it. He brought someone in to look at me.”

“What?”

“I know, it sounds so strange,” she said, shaking her head, “But it’s true. He brought someone to look at me as if I were a used car he was trying to sell. The guy was so creepy and weird. His voice was nasally and he had a lisp. He didn’t look like anything to be afraid of… he was thin. Older. Weak. But he was terrifying. He held his cold hand to my forehead for a long time and it never got warm. It was awful.”

“Did he say anything to Gordon? How did they act to each other? Were they partners? Was one of them the boss? What was their dynamic?”

“Dean!” barked Sam, “Don’t push her like that.”

“Sammy look…”

“No, you look,” his brother interrupted, “She can only answer one question at a time. So that’s all you need to ask her okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly to Sarah, deflating. He rearranged his knees on the seat so he could face backwards and still be comfortable. Beside him, Cas was driving and keeping his eyes on the road. But, it was obvious to Dean that he was listening carefully.

Looking back at Sarah, who was wide eyed in Sam’s arms, he tried to be patient and asked her carefully, “Gordon and the creepy guy… did they know each other?”

“Yes. They talked like they’d done this before.”

“Did they act like teammates, or was it more like one was the boss and the other the employee?”

“It was like they were acquaintances, like they’d met before but didn’t know each other well.”

“The guy have a name?” Dean asked her.

“Alistair.”

“How long did he stay?”

“A few hours, I guess? As he was leaving, he told Gordon to take care of me… that he’d arrange to take delivery and make payment.”

“So,” said Dean, turning to look straight at Cas, “Fill in the blanks for me. You said Ana didn’t find us, she found the girl. But no one made a move until we took her. Are you sure that Ana wasn’t there for us?”

“No Dean, Ana looked very surprised to see us. That may have been how you managed to get a shot into her.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” said Dean.

“Yes it does,” said Cas firmly. “They were targeting Gordon… it was his van that they were after.”

“You think so?”

“I’m certain of it. This was an exercise I’m familiar with Dean. This was the ‘payment and delivery’ that Alistair mentioned. We interrupted it.”

“Payment and delivery?” questioned Dean, still not understanding.

“Yes, Dean. They wanted Sarah. But for some reason, they either didn’t want to pay or they didn’t want Gordon to live. So they sent Ana and Zar to coordinate ‘payment and delivery’. She shot up the van, thinking only Gordon was in it and Sarah was still imprisoned at the hospital. Zar moved in on que to stage the van with drugs so the police would assume that Gordon had been shot up for the drugs he was hauling. While he was doing that, Ana would’ve proceeded to the hospital to retrieve Sarah but you shot her as she was passing by us. Zar and Ana would have met up at the extraction point, but you shot him too.”

“You knew,” said Dean softly, “Before she even fired a shot, you were telling me to pull my gun.”

“The approaching vehicle was familiar,” said Cas without looking at Dean, “and it seemed out of place… the way it moved…”

“You said you’re familiar with this exercise?” Dean asked tentatively, looking at Cas’ stern profile.

“Yes Dean. I’ve been tested on similar exercises in the environment.”

“You ever done one in the real world?”

“I – I’m not sure,” replied Cas, “I don’t know.”

But Dean could see it all over his friend's face. Either he had, or he was afraid that he had. Dean turned around and sat back down, sagging a little under all the new information he needed to process. His mind still swirled with questions but his head was cloudy and unfocused. The adrenaline his body had been pumping out all night was waning now and he needed to rest before he’d be able to really think things through. The rest of the group seemed to feel the same.

“You think it’s safe to get off the road and rest some?” he asked, looking over at Cas.

“It would seem so,” he answered with a sigh, “But who can say?”

Dean didn’t like Cas’ tone. It sounded very defeated. He pulled out the map and looked around for some backwoods town that would be big enough to boast a motel. He felt reasonably sure they’d evaded any pursuers, for now. Not only had they left a false trail heading east, but that’s where Sarah was from. Logic would guide the enemy in the opposite direction as they drove Baby back to the west. He didn’t even have to ask Cas if they should make for the cabin again. He knew it was the safest place for them.

Dean felt a little sad as his eyes roved over the map and noticed how very close they were to Kansas City right now. He longed for his own house… his comfy chair in his own living room and Sunday dinner at Ellen’s house. He missed his easy days at the shop… the company of his friends… and most of all he missed Bobby being perched in a dimly lit office just a few dozen steps away.

As his finger traced the map, Dean narrated the route to Cas. “We’re on county road ‘M’ right now. As we come into town, we’ll make a right on South Morley Street. It’s the truck route for 63. That’s where we’re most likely to find a hotel.”

Cas nodded and Dean leaned back in his seat. The car was quiet for the next fifteen minutes as the Impala moved along at the speed limit, slowing when they came into town. Cas pulled into a Phillips station and without any discussion, both he and Dean pulled on their shades and hats. “You two stay here,” he whispered to Sam as he hopped out.

Dean moved to the back of the car and began pumping gas, using his fake card to pay at the pump. Cas leaned on the trunk next to him. Even tired as he was, Dean was able to chuckle out loud as he watched Cas try to appear relaxed. Casting a sidelong glance in through the back window, he saw that Sam and Sarah hadn’t moved at all. Both were awake but listless and they’d not separated at all since getting into the car together. When Cas leaned in and began to whisper, he returned his attention to his friend.

“It occurs to me,” said Cas discretely, “That we’ve been remiss. We should have checked Sarah for listening devices. The car too.”

“The car?”

“Yes. It was left unattended in the staff parking lot while we went in for Sarah. Something could easily have been placed.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded, suddenly feeling less confident as he realized they’d been talking about their route in the car. He kept his voice barely above a whisper as he said, “We won’t talk anymore, not until we sweep her. We’ll look over the car as soon as we get to the hotel. If we find anything, we won’t rest. We’ll get right back in the car and re-route.”

Dean watched his friend move away from him and back to the car. When he climbed back in the passenger side, he found his stomach twisting with fear as he considered how much his oversight might have cost them. Self-doubt settled into his bones as he tried to think of what to do if they actually found a listening device riding along with them. Additionally, he knew that the more tired and scared they were, the more mistakes they’d make. Even if they found a listening device somewhere, they’d need to rest soon. They had to be fresh to think fast.

Cas pulled Baby back out into the street and headed north. The grungy yellow and black sign of the Super 8 motel called to him like a siren, his body exhausted to its core and yearning for a reprieve. Cas drove through the lot and selected a space near the back, taking the time to back into the space for a quick getaway just in case.

When everyone climbed out, Dean and Cas took Sarah to the back of the car to check her over. Sam hovered vigilantly as they worked. When she was clean, Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He left them for a few minutes, heading to the office to get them a room. When he returned, both Sam and Cas were going over the car. Between them, it didn’t take long for Dean to get the nod he’d been hoping for.

The four walked to the building, Dean handing Sam a keycard. “Don’t leave the room,” he told his brother, “No matter what. I got us adjoining rooms so you can just knock on the door if you need us. And Sam,” he added pointedly, “No phone calls. No matter what.”

Sam gave him the nod and moved to the entrance of his room. Dean tipped his head in an answering nod as both put the keycard into the locks on neighboring doors. Stepping into the room, he breathed in the vague scent of mildew. The carpet was worn and the bedcovers were hideous. But it was a respite, and they all needed the rest.

Cas moved past him to the bathroom. Dean locked the door and leaned against the wall as he kicked off his boots. When the bathroom opened up, he went in to relieve himself. After, he kicked off his pants and crawled up next to Cas in the bed. They embraced one another, a makeshift hug, and then slid down onto the pillows without a word.

 

 

 

When he woke, Cas felt much better.  Dean’s body was warm against him and he welcomed the feeling. The room was darker. It had been mid-afternoon when they’d arrived, but now the feeble light trickling in behind the heavy curtains was a sign that dusk was fast approaching. Beside him, Dean glowed softly in his peaceful sleep.

Thoughts of Ana and Zar plagued him. He had to acknowledge his part in their deaths, especially Zar. He’d wanted to believe that Zar could keep his secret. But, with Dean’s life in his hands he could take no chances. Unable to be still any longer once his thoughts began churning, he carefully untangled himself from his Bright and moved to the bathroom. He took a shower, letting the hot water loosen his muscles.

Dean was awake when he exited. The lamps were on and so was the television. Clearly he’d gone out to the car, because the duffle bags from the trunk were now on the bed. Grateful for clean clothing, Cas moved towards his bag.

“Don’t be in such a hurry to cover up,” said Dean with a smile, stepping between him and his bag.

A shiver skittered up his spine as he recognized the playful tone his friend was using and the purposeful way those deep green eyes roved over his body. Then, he watched Dean’s hand reach for him and felt finger tips brush his abdomen as they curled into the top of the towel he’d wrapped around his waist. One gentle tug from Dean and the damp towel dropped to the floor at his feet.

Dean was fully clothed, so there was something strangely exciting about standing before him so naked. Cas could feel his skin suddenly become hyper sensitive, his mind fixating on the feeling when a random drop of water slid from his wet hair and rolled down his back. When another slithered down the side of his face he flicked it away with his hand, eyes still locked on Dean.

Dean’s eyes, however, followed the next drop when it slipped down his chest. The heat behind his friends gaze was undeniable. Cas’ mind flashed to one of his many fantasies of being in the shower with Dean and he felt a smile spreading as the thought lit up his body from the inside out. Dean had been encouraging of his interests in the area of their cocks lately, even going so far as to tell him he “couldn’t wait to do it again” when they’d sat on the steps and talked the other night.

Now, hope emboldened him. He reached out for Dean and took his hand, stepping backward and drawing his friend forward. About halfway to the bathroom, understanding seemed to dawn and Dean’s free hand reached up to begin undoing the buttons of his shirt as he was led to the shower.

Pausing briefly at the door to the little bathroom, Cas let go of his friend’s hand so he could slide the flannel shirt from his friend’s shoulders with both hands. His palms rested on those broad shoulders as the shirt floated down behind Dean and left him bare chested. He felt his hands getting more confident as Dean’s body language reassured him that his advances were welcomed.

The cool air of the room had set a chill on him and he found himself eager to stand under warm water again. As he backed into the little bathroom, he didn’t even turn on a light. He never took his eyes off Dean as he stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water.It was cool at first, but he twisted his wrist to warm it as he watched Dean step in with him.

Cas could feel his heart pounding as Dean pushed in close, squeezing in to get under the tepid spray. He could not suppress the sigh that escaped him as he felt his friend wrap arms around his waist to draw their bodies flush. Their dicks bumped together as they stood chest-to-chest and the feel of it pulsed through him. His breaths could not be controlled as lips found his neck and a warm tongue slid along his wet skin. When that mouth clamped down on him and sucked, the feel of it jolted him. His hands clamped down on those wide shoulders again, and he gasped for breath, Dean’s name bursting from his lips.

The water was steaming hot now and as they moved, the spray of it pelted the back of Cas’ neck and drenched Dean’s face. Droplets hung from those thick eyelashes and lush pink lips, parted and anticipatory. Looking at Dean like this, feeling his firm hands, it was impossible to hold back. Thankfully, Dean had told him not to. This… this was the ‘good part’ and Dean wanted him to wet himself. Just thinking of Dean wanting him to feel this way seemed to bring his body pleasure, tingles spreading over him as Dean’s hand found the bulge between his legs.

It was all happening so fast. He wanted to open his eyes and look at Dean, but once again he felt that rushing… that plunging… that all-consuming surge of bliss as it pressed lower in him and built up between his legs. Dean’s hand squeezed and pushed down, twisted and pulled back up. As it did, he fell forward with the onslaught. The world dipped and swayed around him as the feeling washed over him, first with intensity that should bring him to his knees, and then in smaller bursts that made his body twitch and shake.

When he recovered himself, he found he was being supported by Dean. He lifted his head from its resting place against his friend’s shoulder and tipped himself back, asking his legs to again hold all of his weight. Dean was smiling at him, talking to him, reassuring him.

Then, with a wink, Dean asked, “You wanna see what it looks like Cas? When I come?”

He nodded, able to think of nothing he’d rather see. Dean took a step back from him. Without an overhead light on, it was dim in the shower stall. But his friend’s body was glowing warmly, the light of it pulsing gently from the inside as streaks of water rolled down the outside. He took a deep breath as he watched Dean’s hand circle his cock. Green eyes gazed at him when he looked up, and it was obvious and he liked Cas watching.

Cas felt drawn in, watching as Dean ran his fist up and down his _thing_. Dean had said there were lots of names for the _thing_ and Cas suddenly had the compulsion to learn them all. For now, all he could remember were cock and dick. Neither seemed a very appropriate word to use when describing the antithesis of everything he now knew as desire. Dean’s hand was moving faster now and his free hand reached out, taking Cas by the forearm. He mirrored the action on Dean’s arm too, holding tightly as he looked down. His mouth watered as he looked at that cock, dark at the tip as Dean’s fist worked it over.

The urge to put his mouth on it was strong, but he didn’t know if that was a normal desire or a strange one. So instead, he settled for watching. Steam clouded around them and Dean’s stomach twitched as he moved his hand up and down. He was making intriguing noises too; soft moans and sighs that sounded strangled – as though his friend was working to hold back but couldn’t. With his chest heaving… bicep flexing…grip tight on Cas’ arm… Dean was magnificent to behold. It was difficult to find his voice while watching, but a question had bubbled up in his chest and no matter how he tried, it could not be swallowed back down.

“Dean,” he gasped, fighting to keep his voice steady, “Are you mine, the way I am yours?”

“Yes,” whispered his Bright as his eyes slid shut.

Cas felt joyful as he absorbed Deans answer. His eyes drank in the sight of warm light building brighter in Dean and thrilled at the thought that he belonged to this incredible man. When he let his eyes sweep downward again, Dean’s cock was erupting. It was enthralling to watch as pulses of fluid shot out. Some of it launched up over Dean’s fist while some rolled out to spill over the side. His friend’s tight fist was still moving, erratically, and Cas’ eyes followed a glob of milky fluid that rolled over the back of his hand to fall at their feet. Dean’s grip on his arm was iron and Cas found himself thrilled at the strength of their connection when he leaned in and put his mouth to Deans. Behind the seal of their lips he felt the seal of their hearts and he knew that Dean felt what he felt. He had no name for the feeling but it was powerful.

 

 

 

A knocking broke the stillness.

“Dean?”

“Yeah,” he answered, swinging his legs off the bed, “M’comin.”

He fumbled into the bag, pulling out a pair of jeans and stepping into them as he hobbled over to the door that separated them from Sam and Sarah’s room. Quickly undoing the lock, he opened the door just a crack. In his peripheral vision, he saw Cas stepping into pants but wanted to give him a moment to get presentable before swinging the door wide open.

“Hey,” said Sam softly, keeping his eyes averted, “Sorry to interrupt.”

“S’okay,” he answered honestly, “We were just resting.”

“We’re hungry,” said Sam, “When can we get some food?”

Through the crack in the door, Dean could hear the shower running in Sam’s bathroom. “When we get back on the road, I suppose. We’re hungry too. Ready to head out in twenty?”

“Should be,” nodded Sam.

“Alright, just knock again when you’re ready to pack up the car.”

“Sure. But Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s eager to make a phone call. Can we swing that?”

“We’ll see,” he told his brother. Then, he closed the door and looked over at Cas who was sitting on the side of the bed, pulling on his shoes. After their shower, they’d both dropped to the bed with weak knees and wet hair. No one had spoken for quite a while, but when Dean had looked over at Cas, he’d noticed the furrowed brow and pinched lips.

“What are you thinking about?” he’d asked. Curious if the stress his friend was feeling was due to the events of the previous night or fears of the future.

“Lots of things,” he’d answered. “It’s difficult to navigate my memories. I realize now, how few I have. When I met you, I had none. So, when I was brought back ‘home’ and Naomi restored me… I felt like I had all the answers. I knew where my dwelling was and who my family was and what was expected of me. But now, I realize that the banks of my mind should be filled experiences that go back years and years.”

“But it’s not?”

“No Dean. The volume of memories I have accumulated with you is more than the entire sum of my collective memory. I’m afraid that I haven’t had my memory restored at all… just the knowledge of ‘home’. Watching Ana and Zar run the exercise to take delivery of Sarah was very… it was very…”

“Familiar?” supplied Dean when Cas trailed off.

“Yes. Familiar.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where Cas was headed with this line of thinking. Dean had already had the thought. “You feel like you’ve done it before and you just can’t remember, right?”

“Perhaps,” Cas agreed on an exhale, “Or maybe it was done to me?”

Dean was silent. He couldn’t even inhale. His heart clenched as his mind caught up with what Cas was thinking.

“Dean, do you think it’s possible that I have a family somewhere? That I was taken from a real mother? That I may have siblings? Real ones?”

Unable to even imagine the pain that someone would feel when contemplating this question, he reached for his friend and pulled him close. He hoped that his arms, wrapping Cas up tightly, might provide some measure of comfort as words failed him completely.

“You told me,” Cas whispered, “that the ache in my chest was loneliness. That I just missed you when we were separated. But Dean,” he said imploringly, “I had that ache all along… before I even saw you for the first time. Perhaps it was for them?”

Dean was still silent. He had no idea what to say. But holding Cas close like this, their cheeks pressed together, it was impossible to ignore the wetness as tears tracked down Cas’ cheek to land on his own. He couldn’t even imagine how it would feel to have such a gaping hole in your life; to not even know who you were missing, but to feel the weight of it anyway.

It took him longer than it should’ve to finally swallow down the frog in his throat and croak out, “M’sorry Cas.”

His friend had laid there silently for a long time and Dean didn’t let go. He held Cas until his friend had fallen asleep, even after.

But, Sam’s knock had brought them back to the real world. He grabbed a shirt from his bag and began to put it on. Just as his stomach rumbled, Cas piped up from across the room.

“I’m hungry Dean.”

“Me too,” he chuckled, pulling on his shoes. “What do you feel like eating?”

“A burger. And maybe some pie.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” he smiled, wishing there was more he could do for his long suffering friend.

Since they’d slept the afternoon away, it was dark when they stepped outside. The four ate at the diner on the corner and then made a quick stop at a discount store. Dean threw on his shades and hat despite the dark and grabbed some track pants a t-shirt for poor Sarah who’d been wearing the same filthy clothes since she’d been rescued. Getting Sarah to accept that she couldn’t call home hadn’t been easy. But when told that her contact would likely endanger her father, she’d agreed to wait.

With the four of them in the car, it was crowded. The hours ticked by slowly. No one could stretch out and it was impossible to get any real rest. They had to stop again at a hotel in Gillette, Wyoming. They’d been on the road for about 15 hours straight at that point so, once again, they found themselves crashing on shitty motel beds in the middle of the afternoon. Cas had been pretty quiet, but under the circumstances seemed appropriate. They didn’t say much as they stretched out on the bed to get some sleep, or when they woke to get back in the car.

Watching his brother and Sarah was intriguing. They were so clearly bonded already, orbiting around each other like two halves of the same whole. They didn’t talk much, but Sam would frequently answer questions she’d not asked, and Dean wondered if she was asking with her mind. He had to acknowledge that more was passing between them than what he could hear. Even in the looks they gave each other, there was meaning. Silent questions and answers.

When they finally parked at the cabin, Dean was worn out. They all were. They barely uttered a word as they pulled their things from the trunk and staggered inside. For a moment, Dean considered giving Sam and Sarah the room he was currently sharing with Cas. It seemed only polite to allow the lady to occupy the nicest room. But with everyone so weary, it seemed like a topic better approached when they were rested. He wasn’t feeling like moving all their stuff around at the moment anyway.

Dean watched Sam usher Sarah up the ladder to the loft and follow her. Then he followed his road weary friend to their room and shut the door. Even though they weren’t really clean, the sheets were cool and almost crisp when they climbed in. It felt refreshing compared to being stuffed into a crowded car. Cas settled in next to him, and Dean scooted forward to loop an arm around his waist and press himself against his friends back. He knew Cas was still feeling melancholy and he wanted to reassure him. But other than holding him close, there wasn’t much he could do.

 

 

 

Cas woke to the smell of coffee. Good coffee; the kind he’d grown used to while living at Dean's house. Even when dressed he still felt cold, so he grabbed Dean’s flannel shirt from the floor and pulled it on over his own before stepping out into the main area.

It was much warmer out here where a crackling fire glowed. Sam was leaning over Sarah’s shoulder in the kitchen. She looked adorable bundled into Sam’s oversized shirt. Cas watched her as she fried up eggs on their little camp stove. He opened the cooler, but all the ice had melted into water while they’d been gone. There wasn’t much salvageable. Most was rotted or had dissolved in the water.

“I guess we’ll need to get more supplies,” he shrugged, looking at Sam.

“We’ll have to get Sarah some more clothes too,” replied Dean’s brother as he filled a mug with coffee and passed it to him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, trying to focus his attention on Sam’s gentle eyes rather than the small cloud of darkness that hung low in chest.

“How did you guys sleep?” he asked, trying to include them both.

Sam didn’t speak, busy sipping his coffee. But he nodded in the affirmative to indicate he’d slept fine.

When he glanced over at Sarah, she looked him in the eye and gave him a nod. In his head, he heard the words, “Like a baby,” but her lips didn’t move at all.

“That’s incredible,” he breathed, experiencing her telepathy for the first time.

“It’s unreliable,” she said aloud. “It doesn’t always work.”

“How so?”

“Some people just don’t hear me,” she answered. “Dean doesn’t.”

“When did you try?” he asked her.

“I’ve been trying since I met him.”

“Were you trying with me too?”

“No,” she answered, “This is the first time you’ve really looked at me.”

“And you need to see me for it to work?”

“Well, I’m new to this,” she said as she scraped a serving of eggs onto a plate for Sam, “But so far, yes, I seem to need to look at someone for a while before it works. I think I just need to be able to see their face when I try to talk to them. If I don’t know them well enough to picture their face, it doesn’t seem to work very well.”

“You got messages to Sam,” he reminded her, “And over a great distance.”

“Actually,” she responded, “I was just crying out for help to anyone who could hear me. I’m glad he did.”

“Yeah,” added Sam, “But compared to what she sent out… I really didn’t hear much. But it got so much stronger once she’d seen my face. Now it’s intense.”

Sam took another bite of eggs before adding, “When we were in the van, I was just looking at the road and slowing for a stop sign. Then all of a sudden I saw her face as if she were right in front of me and heard her screaming to get down on the floor. That half a second of warning was the only thing that saved my life when the shooting started.”

“Interesting,” said Cas, wrapping his cold hands around the warm mug. He turned his attention back to Sarah and asked, “Can you hear him too?”

“No, this is a one way street.”

Cas thought she looked a little sad when she said that, but it was hard to tell with her dark hair hanging over her face like a curtain. She was finishing up another small pan of eggs and when she’d dumped them onto a plate, she pushed it towards him.

“Thank you,” he said when he took it. They were silent for a bit, both men shoveling in eggs and Sarah stirring a third batch. As his eyes roved about the cabin, he began thinking of Dean. He remembered the way the man had turned backwards to talk with Sam and Sarah in the backseat. He remembered seeing Dean watch Sam and Sarah together as they ate in diners and talked quietly in the backseat. A question popped into his head.

“Sarah?”

“Yes?”

“You said I didn’t look at you until now.”

“That’s right.”

“I’m sorry about that. I’ve been preoccupied.”

“It’s alright. I understand.”

“But Dean has. He’s been looking at you a lot. But still, he can’t hear you when you talk in his head?”

“I know, it’s strange. But I never could get Gordon to hear me either. I guess it doesn’t work on everyone. It’s odd,” she continued, “but I can feel that there are others who hear me. Its like, when you know there are people in the next room even though you can’t see them. I know they’re there and I can try to speak to them. But I don’t know if they’re hearing me or not. When I was taken, I was screaming with my mind… just hoping someone would hear me. And someone did.”

By the time she sat down with her eggs, both he and Sam were finished. They sat in front of the fire for a bit, talking about Sarah’s gift. By the time Dean came out, they had moved on to other subjects. But by then, Cas had a better understanding of how Sarah’s gift worked. He had a theory about who could hear her and who couldn’t. But, it served no one to be venturing guesses, so he kept it to himself. Dean grabbed some coffee and settled next to him on the couch.

Once the four were all present, the conversation shifted to plans for the day. It was decided that they’d switch rooms. They also made plans to go to town that afternoon for supplies and to wash clothes. Dean had said a fifth of whiskey was also needed. The group dispersed when it was time to stoke the fire.

Dean and Cas moved their personal items up to the loft. This was the first time Cas had gone all the way up. He found that he rather liked the space. It had cleaned up well and was quite cozy. The bed was more comfortable too… or so Cas thought. Dean said he preferred the other mattress. But, he pointed out, at least this one wasn’t sitting on a squeaky bedframe.

“Why should that matter?” Cas asked.

“You’ll see why soon enough,” laughed Dean.

When their things were settled, Cas moved to the kitchen and began to clean up the dishes from breakfast.  The brothers went out to get more firewood and Sarah seemed to be nosing around… peeking through the decrepit cabinets and digging through the supply tubs.

“Look what I found!” she declared, tugging at a large and rusty basin of some kind that was wedged under a shelf on the screen porch.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Well, I’m not sure what the proper name for it is,” she laughed, “But I’m going to call it a cauldron. Help me?”

“Of course,” he said as he set to lifting it out. “What is it for?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but I think we can use it,” she said, scampering off ahead of him to the main room.

He hefted the heavy pot and followed behind her, setting it down in the door way as he watched her brace her palms on the mantle and lean in to look inside the fireplace.

“Yes!” she said, dancing a little as she moved toward him, “There’s a hook in there! Help me fill it with water.”

“A hook? Water?” he had no idea where she was going with this… why she was so excited.

“Yes, water,” she said, tugging him towards the kitchen, “We fill it with water and hang it over the fire. The water gets hot and then we pour it in the tub. And that,” she announced proudly, “means we take a warm bath instead of a cold shower.”

“You’re brilliant,” he told her with a smile. “I’ve never had a bath before, but I’ve had a cold shower.”

“You’ve never had a bath?”

“Not that I remember,” he said softly, hating to admit it.

She was kind though, returning her attention to their new project and not commenting further on his lack of life experience. When Dean and Sam returned from getting wood, they were quite impressed with the huge and heavy cauldron that now hung over the fire.

They all stayed in the living room after that, playing cards while each waited for their turn to take a bath. Sarah was given the honor of going first since it was her brilliant idea. The process of getting the hot cauldron out of the fireplace required two men. They’d hoist it between them on a heavy log to carry it into the bathroom. Then, they’d coordinate a third person to push the lip with smaller stick, effectively tipping it to pour water into the bathtub.

After each pour, they’d add more cold water to the cauldron. By the time it was the next persons turn, the pot would be boiling again. They repeated the process all afternoon, each taking a turn.

The four went into town together, but they didn’t all go inside at the same time. They took turns, two always waiting in the car, just to keep from drawing attention to themselves. Dean used a burner phone to call Ellen while they were in town and dropped it in Flathead River as they went over it. She’d been thrilled to hear from them, it was obvious. He told her in carefully worded language that the subject of his brother’s visions had been extracted and was with them. She told them, in her way, that she missed them. Then she covertly gave them instructions for how Bobby would reach them by phone. It was past dark when they returned, and they missed the turn off for the cabin.

Turning around, they missed it again the other way. Dean cursed and Sarah laughed and Cas found himself enjoying their company. Even Sam. The cabin was cold and dark when they stepped back into it. So, while he and Sarah and Sam carried in supplies, Dean started a fire. All four lingered on the rug in front of the fire until they were toasty warm again. They played a game of hearts with old shitty cards while passing around Dean’s whiskey.

Even after Sam and Sarah excused themselves to bed, Dean lingered by the fire with him. They didn’t have much to say, mostly just watching the flames flicker and enjoying the warmth, comfort and the relative safety of their hideaway. When he found himself nodding off, he stretched and stood. Dean seemed to follow his lead and they headed up to bed. Cas was pleased as he reached the top of the ladder and found that the warmth of the fire had risen to warm up their little loft. It was far cozier than the bedroom had been last night.

Dean stepped up behind him and slid hands around his waist, unbuttoning his jeans and tugging his zipper down for him. Cas smiled at the attention. If he’d known Dean was going to put hands on him like this, he’d have climbed the ladder much sooner. It was enticing to feel his clothing lifted from his body and soon he was busying his hands with freeing Dean from his clothes too.

They fell into the bed enthusiastically. Caught up in a surge of excitement, Cas found himself reaching out and taking hold of Dean’s dick with both hands. This was the first time he’d done so. It was soft and squishy and again the urge to taste it was overwhelming. He bit his lip and satisfied himself with holding it, loving how it seemed to grow heavier in his hands. As it thickened between his fingers, he traced over it and marveled at how silky smooth it felt… even after it had grown long and hard. He knew he was ineloquent with the way he handled it. By comparison, Dean’s fingers were much more skilled - nimble as they coaxed his own cock to stand at attention and leak copious amounts of slick fluid.

As they both explored one another, Dean began to kiss and lick him. Lips, neck and shoulder were smothered with affection as Dean whispered softly of how good it was going to be. As kisses migrated lower, Cas found himself laughing out loud in response to the tickling feeling of lips descending his abdomen. When a tongue dipped into his belly button he said Dean’s name aloud.

“Cas,” Dean whispered in response, “you’re gonna love this.”

And with that, Dean’s mouth touched his shaft, lightly kissing his tip before he opened up and sank down. Cas’ body thrilled with the sensation and he sucked in a ragged breath. As he laid there, body humming with pleasure, he filled with elation.

“Dean,” he said softly, working to keep his voice steady, “I – I wanted to do this to you. I just didn’t think… I didn’t know if you would want…”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, pulling up to hover over Cas’ throbbing cock, “Sometimes you think too much.”

As he spoke, Cas could feel the expulsion of Dean's breath. It ghosted over his wet dick, cooling it, and sending a new wave of shivers over him. Then, when Dean plunged back down on him, the intense feeling was further magnified and he moaned again. It was impossible to keep still or be quiet with Dean’s mouth moving up and down on him. He clenched his fists into the sheets as the waves of pleasure swept over him and when he could take no more, his hands reached for Dean and grasped at skin as he filled Dean’s mouth.

His chest was heaving after, but he wasted no time with rest. He got his knees under him and caged Dean’s hips between his arms, shoving his mouth aggressively down on his friend to enthusiastically reciprocate. Again, he was less skilled than Dean in technique. But it didn’t seem to matter to Dean whose body bowed under his mouth as he worked. Eventually, Dean filled his mouth too. The taste of it was horrid, but he swallowed it down and didn’t stop. He suckled and licked Dean’s cock until it was small and soft again caring for nothing but Dean’s pleasure.

Then, even when his friend was clearly hovering on the edge of sleep, Cas continued to explore with his mouth. He kept his eyes open and his fingers busy as he roved over every inch of skin that he’d ever been curious about. He lifted the soft, hairy and wrinkly skin that hung below the shaft and explored the smooth area beneath it. Dean moaned softly and spread his legs farther apart to allow for more. First fingers, then tongue slid back farther pushing between butt cheeks.

With every inch covered by the pads of his fingers or the tip of his tongue, Cas half expected Dean to chastise him… tell him enough was enough. But his friend didn’t rebuke him. In fact, he rolled to the side and pulled a knee up to his chest, allowing Cas access to more. With interest and intrigue, he pulled Dean’s cheeks apart and began licking between them.

In the back of his mind, Cas found his own behavior strange. As far as bodily functions go, some of the least desirable things happened in this area. But he was not discouraged, in fact, he was titillated. His own body pulsed excitement as he felt the puckering of soft skin beneath his tongue. Dean let out a soft moan as Cas worked. He treasured every taste of Dean from the first to the last. Eventually, his path led him up Dean’s strong back. He settled in then, satisfied in every way, still tickling soft kisses over the back of Dean’s neck and into his hair as they both fell asleep.

Resting was easy that night, holding and being held, safely ensconced in their little hideaway. When they woke, it was to the smell of coffee. Sarah was in the kitchen again and as they climbed down the ladder, Cas noticed that their supply run yesterday had improved the menu. Today there were real eggs instead of powdered ones in the frying pan. Sarah moved expertly around the kitchen now. And, though it took a while to prepare food for so many with so few amenities, she claimed that she liked doing it. The men praised her efforts and talked of what would happen that day.

“We’re getting a phone call today at three,” said Dean, “We need to leave here at 2:00.”

“Where?” asked Sam.

“In town; the diner where you tied my shoes together.”

Sam’s face lit up and he burst out laughing. “That was so awesome!”

“Was not,” retorted Dean.

Cas registered Dean’s angry tone, but he also caught a secret smile at his friends lips. He was clearly working hard to keep it from appearing.

“Was too,” countered Sam, “You winked at the waitress… as if somehow she’d want to score with a thirteen year old. Then you sprawled on your face at her feet! It was so fucking awesome!”

Dean’s efforts to hold back his laughter soon failed. His face broke into a wide grin and he leaned into his brother, slapping him between his shoulders, “Paybacks are Hell Sammy, you just remember that.”

Cas enjoyed the camaraderie amongst their group, he and Sarah catching each other’s eye and sharing a smile as they watched the brothers tease one another.

They relaxed for most of the morning. Their only strenuous activity was gathering firewood and even that was pleasant. The air was crisp and the trees were bright against the clear blue sky… fiery red, brilliant orange and golden yellow. Around them, colorful leaves drifted by on the gentle breeze. When they’d stacked the front porch with several days’ worth of wood, they built a fire and settled around it, sipping coffee.

 

 

 

As the hour neared for them to go into town, Dean felt his body growing tense. He had no idea what to expect from the phone call they were about to get and it made him nervous. Deep down inside, where he barely acknowledged it, he hoped for a reprieve. More than he cared to admit, he wanted a few days here… a little time to just enjoy Cas and the new physical aspect of their relationship. He wanted to take his friend fishing on the lake, roast marshmallows in the fireplace and do dirty things to each other in their little loft. He wanted some peace. Just a few days… it didn’t feel like that was asking too much. But it was. He knew that. And that’s why he worked so hard to keep from getting his hopes up.

Bobby would have instructions for them, he was certain of it. Sadly, the closest thing to a reprieve they could hope for was the pseudo normal dinner they’d be having at the diner… nothing but an act so they’d have a reason to be in the restaurant when their call came in. Well, he thought to himself, at least there would be pie.

At the diner, he parked on the street and the four headed inside. At least the shades and hats they wore didn’t seem so out of place under a mid-day sun. They settled at a booth and Dean looked around. There were no cameras mounted anywhere. There weren’t many people either… just a few stragglers who happened to be here between the lunch and dinner rush. The waitress was seated at a table near the kitchen wrapping silverware into napkins. She didn’t actually get up until they all closed their menus, a universal signal that they were ready to order. 

When she arrived at the table, Dean pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. The rest of the table followed his lead and removed theirs as well. She put a water glass down for each of them and asked what they’d like. She departed after taking their order, but she returned immediately with coffee and said their food would be ready shortly.

They talked quietly as they waited, Sarah commenting on what a charming town Whitefish is, and Sam telling stories of the vacations they’d taken here as kids. All was as normal as it could have been until the phone rang in the back. Dean watched their waitress as she got up to answer.

Her face reflected boredom as she picked up the receiver and said, “Buffalo Café, how can I help you?”

Seeing her expression change to one of curiosity, he dropped his eyes to the table, not wanting it to be obvious that he was watching her.

“One moment, I’ll check,” he heard her say.

He kept his eyes averted until she was near enough to the table that it was natural for him to look up at her.

“Is anyone in this party waiting for a man named Robert?”

Her question surprised him for a moment until his brain supplied Robert as the given (though seldom used) name of Bobby Singer.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I am.”

“Well, he’s on the phone,” she said, “I guess couldn’t reach you on your cell so he’s called our phone. You can take the call at the counter if you’d like.”

Dean got up and walked to the counter. He picked up the receiver that was laying on the counter next to the antiquated cash register.

“Hello?”

“S’good to hear your voice, son.”

“You too,” he answered, feeling self-conscious for the way his voice had caught when he spoke. He tried to keep his voice even despite it being heavy with emotion for this man who was his father, in action if not by blood.

“Got a pen?” Bobby asked him.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for the one lying next to the register.

“Take down this number.”

Dean scribbled on his hand as Bobby rattled off a ten digit number.

“That’s my next burner. Don’t call unless it’s an emergency. Your old man’s onto something big and we’ve got the gang back together to check it out. In the meantime, you guys just lay low for a while.”

“Okay,” he answered, thrilled to hear that they were being instructed to stay put. But, he was also immediately curious about what could have gotten his father and uncles working as a team again.

“You can still call the shop from a burner when you need to,” said Bobby, probably just letting Dean know that Ellen was still handling things there. “And I hear you found what your brother was lookin' for?”

“Yep.”

“Good for you. Any problems?”

“A whole new can of worms,” he answered honestly.

“Anything I need to know?”

“Nothing concrete yet. If anything comes up, I’ll call the shop.”

“Alright. You boys take care now,” said Bobby warmly.

“You too,” he answered, sad that the call was already ending.

“And,” Bobby added, his voice growing stern, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Gotcha,” he chuckled as he heard the line go dead.

Dean stretched over the counter to return the receiver to its cradle, glancing at the waitress as he did. She was getting up from her seat again to wait on a new customer. As he turned to walk back to his table, his eyes glazed over the man who had entered while he’d been on the phone. The guy looked like a truck driver and had settled in a booth on the opposite side of the restaurant.

As he slid into the booth he said, “Looks like we’re staying put for a while.”

The table collectively let out a relieved sigh. Clearly he’d not been the only one with hopes for a few days of rest. Looking at Sam he said, “Bobby’s with Dad and Rufus. They’re onto something.”

“What?”

“Didn’t say.”

“Any instructions?” prodded Sam, clearly wanting more information.

“Yeah,” replied Dean sarcastically, “he said, ‘Don’t do anything stupid’.”

Sam burst out laughing. Sarah smiled too, probably just happy that Sam seemed happy. Cas seemed a bit distracted, but a moment later the waitress stepped up with their food. Dean smiled as he sank his teeth into a huge bacon cheeseburger deluxe and watched Cas do the same across from him.

The table grew quiet as they ate and Dean’s mind contented itself with thoughts of enjoying a few days of peace and quiet. He had no delusions… soon enough they’d be back on the road. This wasn’t a happily ever after, just a chance to rest. If he, Sam and Cas were ‘ducks on a pond’ as Bobby had once called them, then adding Sarah had made them an even bigger target. More and more it seemed plausible that the same relentless enemy was after them all… Cas, Sam and Sarah.

Dean had easily made his peace with a life of running. He’d known what he was getting into when he’d fled with Cas. And he’d never been sorry, not for a moment. He did, however, feel bad for Sammy. His brother had a shot at a life… a college education… a career and a family. It seemed such a shame to condemn him to a life on the run.

But, as Bobby had once told him, there’s no complaints line at the Fairness Bureau. You get what life gives you and you make the best of it. And that’s what he planned to do. He’d take care of his little family, protect his brother and his lover. He’d stay on the run with them for as long as necessary to keep them safe.

Sammy might be missing out by not having a normal life, but for Dean this didn’t change much. Dean’s life had always been centered on helping Sammy figure out his visions and save the lives of those he saw in them. That didn’t have to change just because they were on the run.

When the waitress stepped up to their table and began clearing plates, he winked at Cas as he ordered them all pie for dessert. And, for a moment, he felt very clear about life. The last few weeks of mayhem hadn’t really changed anything that mattered. He had a family he loved and he’d protect them. He’d go on saving people with Sam the same way he always had. He’d help Cas hunt for Darks too.

As their pie was set down in front of them, his eyes flicked to his man. His smile fell a little as he saw that Cas wasn’t paying much attention to the food. He was still distracted. As Dean took a bite of his warm pie, he realized that Cas was watching the trucker – the one who had come in while he’d been speaking with Bobby earlier.

The man was alone. He was dressed in greasy clothes and dirty ball cap. Dean watched as he threw a twenty on the table and got up to leave. Cas, to Dean’s surprise, rose and followed the man out the door. When the bell on the door clanged, Cas looked back at Dean gave him a nod.

“I know that look,” said Dean to his brother and Sarah, “You two better get a box for this pie.”

“Dean?” questioned Sam.

“Sammy,” he said, tossing bills down on the table for their food, “Get our shit together and meet me out front.”

Dean pulled his sunglasses back on and walked out the door. Glancing to the left he caught a glimpse of Cas as he walked around the corner of the restaurant. Dean followed and peered around the corner. He could see that Cas was following the dirty man down an alley. Adrenaline shot through his body as he watched his friend fish his garrote wire out of his pocket. He didn’t stay to watch.

Instead, he turned back to the street and jogged over to the Impala. Baby snarled to life under his hand and he hit the gas, being careful not to squeal the tires and draw attention to himself. At the end of the street, he made a left. He made another left at the corner, slowing near the mouth of the alley. Dean looked down the length of the passage, expecting to see Cas.

His eyes raked the empty alley for a moment before he finally saw Cas step out from behind a dumpster. Dean pulled over to wait while Cas jogged the few dozen steps to the end of the alley and emerged out onto the sidewalk. He nodded discreetly to Dean as he walked around the front of the car and climbed into the passenger side.

“You leave that guy behind a dumpster?” he asked.

“Yes Dean,” his friend answered, “Where are Sam and Sarah?”

“We’re pickin them up,” he replied as he accelerated down the street. “I still don’t know how you do it,” he marveled, noticing that there was no blood on Cas’ coat. “How do you stay so clean when you kill so bloody?”

“I’ve been told I have good hands,” replied Cas, his face serious.

Dean burst out laughing, his mind taking him to a dirty place and supplying a sexy meaning for Cas’ words. “Yeah, you do have good hands Cas,” he agreed as he turned left at the intersection.

Another left turn and they’d circled the block. Here, at the entrance to the restaurant, stood Sam and Sarah. They each had a box of leftovers in hand. Both were wearing hats and shades and looked like they were waiting for a bus.

Pulling up to the curb, he nodded for them to hop in and then wasted no time getting out of town. Dean went over the outing in his mind as they drove, searching for anything that might lead the cops to them when the body was discovered. He could think of nothing. The waitress might be able to describe them, perhaps even tell the police that they’d received a phone call direct to the diner’s landline. But there were no video cameras to review for footage of them, outside or in. They’d paid in cash so there was no paper trail. And even if the authorities looked into the phone that had placed a call to the Buffalo Cafe, they’d learn nothing. Bobby had tossed that phone in a river the moment he’d hung up with Dean. Yeah, they were safe.

As his body began to relax, he leaned forward to turn on the radio. On the way to town, he’d been secretly hoping to be allowed a few days to relax at the cabin and now he’s been granted that wish. Sooner or later, Sammy would have another dream and Dean would help him search out the victim. Together they’d try save whoever needed saving. Along the way, Cas could hunt his Darks, and Dean was ready to help with that too.

This new life of theirs wasn't one he would have chosen… not for Sammy or Cas or even for himself. But he'd make the most of it. Traveling around in his Baby with his brother and his lover by his side; saving people with Sam and hunting dark things with Cas, yeah, he could make a life out of that.

Questions still churned in Dean's mind about his father, Bobby, and Rufus. He was also unsettled about Sam and his visions. And, yeah, he still had more questions than answers about Cas. But despite all the unknowns, Dean smiled widely as they roared down the scenic highway in his baby. Right now he was just glad to be granted some time to decompress... to relax and spend some time with his brother and Cas. Perhaps someday they'd figure everything out and it would be safe to go home. But, for now, he planned to enjoy this little reprieve they'd been given.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [Tumblr](http://rachwill.tumblr.com/)


End file.
